


Lifeline

by AllMyArias, SpillerAndKiss



Category: Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coming Out, Confessions, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hannibal Lecter/Original Character - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Romance, Secret Identity, Sexual Content, Top Hannibal, Top Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 00:39:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 61,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2367845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllMyArias/pseuds/AllMyArias, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpillerAndKiss/pseuds/SpillerAndKiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Hannibal's escape in Tennessee... he finds himself in Santa Monica. At home beside the ocean, the doctor that has forever captained his life is tossed into the sea with the arrival of Benjamin Stephens. And it's Ben's decision whether or not he's going to let the doctor drown, or toss him a lifeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One.

**Author's Note:**

> So, my first real fanfiction. I hate to pop all the NBC fans bubbles, but when I wrote this, Anthony Hopkins was the Hannibal that I pictured. This started as just a fun little fluff fix and turned into this beast, so I hope you all enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.
> 
> A HUGE thank you to the inspiration that got this fix off the ground and the voice behind Ben, AriaBlazing. My amazing writing partner and awesome beta. Couldn't have done it without you, darling.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter had experienced quite his fill of confinement during his lifetime. Eight years in a maximum security prison, and countless more trapped in the dreary hours of psychiatric practice, seated on a comfortable armchair and listening to the dull drabble of his many patients, whining on about various petty troubles. There had been a few exceptions to the norm from which he had derived some enjoyment, of course. Raspail, for example. Those he could toy with, twist their minds into self-destructive shapes he delighted in watching tear themselves apart.

There had been women, too. The few female patients with enough class and good looks for him to notice. Patients that long after he had dismissed them from his office, he continued to pursue. Doctor/patient relationships that lasted a few dinner dates and one or two nights, depending on how the experience had gone.

Physical pleasure had never been high up on Dr. Lecter’s priority list, a release of tension more than anything else. The nagging habits of women that wanted him to stay, “cuddle”, God knows how many messages left on his answering machine the morning after.  

Of course, his stint in prison and fall from public grace had interrupted his so smoothly groomed lifestyle. An inconvenient but not upsetting bump in the road, as it were. Most things did not upset Dr. Lecter. Most things didn’t affect Dr. Lecter emotionally at all, to the point one would wonder if the man possessed any emotional range whatsoever. During his time in the small cell in the basement of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Dr. Lecter had much time to think.

His mind palace entertained him for years, the memories and images, scents and sounds trapped there keeping his senses amused. But eventually; the hours, moments, days ticked away, the memories no longer maintained the glitz they once had, and Dr. Lecter found himself longing for freedom one more. Then came the deal with Chilton, his transfer to Tennessee, and his final; glorious escape. How he had laughed once he had driven away in the ambulance, a near boyish glee coursing through his veins with the wild, giddy sensation that came with breaking a rule. In this case, the rule being his nine consecutive life sentences in the dungeon, the dreary letters from second-rate psychologists that flooded his mailbox near every day. Breaking the rule that had confined him for very nearly ten years was enough to pull joy from the doctors frozen heart.

But now... we jump to today, out of the past. Years after the escape, after the police had all but given up. Dr. Lecter had once again started up a psychiatric practice, his old love affair with the fine art of manipulation rekindled. He was stationed not in Baltimore any longer, but Santa Monica, California, under the well-tended alias of Dr. Gabriel Huntington. Dr. Lecter had always had a fondness for the ocean, the warm breezes and long beaches, and he found Santa Monica was perfect for him. He had secured a townhouse on a year’s lease, furnished it modestly; but comfortably and to his liking, and had begun his practise within a week of settling in. He was soon flooded with appointments.

The word had traveled quickly about the new shrink in town, among the populace that spoke of such things. It didn’t hurt that Hannibal had always been a charming, handsome man, smooth and polite with clients. With his tall stature, broad shoulders and trim physique, dark slicked hair and piercing maroon eyes, he drew the attention of many of his patients both male and female; all of whom’s advances he politely declined. But now, we jump once more to the present hour, of the present day. Dr. Lecter is in captivity once more... and shopping.

Most days, Hannibal enjoyed shopping. To be able to while away the hours picking and choosing among items, to relax on the sunny streets with a cold drink whenever he pleased and enjoy the breeze from the sea. Not today. After being bumped and jostled for the umpteenth time, standing in the crowded Costco checkout line, Dr. Lecter checked his watch once more. He had two hours until his next appointment. He wanted to be home, have his groceries put away, and have a chance to change before he received his patient. At his current paced, he would be cutting it too close for his liking.

The white cotton shirt that the Doctor was currently wearing was damp with sweat from the humid day, the scent of overheated bodies and frustration lingering in the air. He loathed this store. Unfortunately, they were the only one’s who carried the heavy, specific kind of letter paper he liked in bulk. The moment another stationary store started selling the paper, he would never set foot in this cattle chute again. And that was a promise anyone could take to the bank.

 

~

 

Across the store, another man was sharing Dr. Lecter’s opinion on Costco, but going about it in a much louder way. Benjamin Stephens was a well-built, tall man, maybe an inch shorter than Hannibal, with striking green eyes and sandy, brownish blonde hair. He was well-muscled for being in his late thirties, tanned, and was currently barely withholding himself from throttling the pipsqueak behind the counter who was lazily working at the broken cash register like it was the last thing on Earth he wanted to do.

“Come on, man. I got places to be. Can’t ya just count the damn change yourself?” He demanded, the heat only furthering his frustration. The kid shrugged.

“Sure, yeah. I guess.” Ben fumed silently while the scrawny boy took forever counting the change, snatching it back and storming off with the box of chips, frozen pizza, and a case of Pepsi. Not exactly food of champions, but it worked for him. Ever since his ex-girlfriend Lisa had left, claiming “He hadn’t paid her enough attention”. The quality of the food at his place had plummeted. This heat was kicking his ass, he was fed up with the idiots who worked at this fucking excuse for a store, his shoulders hurt from his regular weight lifting the night before, and he was tired. He hadn’t been sleeping very well, since he... well, he hadn’t been sleeping well for a long time. The nightmares had gotten nearly worse than he could bear, lately. He’d wake up screaming himself hoarse, covered in a cold sweat, chest heaving and eyes wild.

Ben was tired of having to stumble to the bathroom at 2am, his hands shaking in panic while he fumbled to find his sleeping pills and down one, only to collapse back into bed and slip into the drug-induced rest they brought him for the remainder of the night. Tired enough he had finally cracked and taken up his good friend Jacob’s suggestion of a shrink. He didn't want to go and pay some crazy pile of cash to have some flaky old guy stare at him for an hour and listen to him talk about his mother, only to give him some more pills to take and send him on his way. Yeah. No thanks. But by this time, he was at his wits end. So he had called the guy Jacob had suggested, booking an appointment for later today. The voice on the phone had been surprisingly nice to listen to, masculine and slightly accented. European, he sounded. His luck and he’d get some Brit who talked too fast and didn’t listen.

 

~

 

After seemingly hours of waiting, a good twenty minutes in real-time, Hannibal had finally paid for his single package - the single package that had taken over an hour to purchase - and strode out with the box under his arm and his mood foul. The heat wasn’t helping, nor the humidity, or the fact that rain clouds were beginning to form and it looked like a storm was coming. Wonderful. Walking with determination across the parking lot towards the jet-black Jaguar he owned, his gaze dropped to his pocket as his hand fumbled for his keys, a silent curse leaving his lips when he dropped them. Bending to retrieve them, annoyance growing by the second, the string of curses never ceased from Hannibal’s mouth.

Ben walked briskly towards the beat up blue and white pickup he owned, parked in odd contrast next to the sleek Jaguar. He too, was digging in his pocket for his keys and did not see Hannibal as the doctor suddenly straightened up from his knelt position between the two cars, smack in Ben’s walking path.

"Jesus Chr-!" was all that had time to escape Ben’s mouth before the two men collided, papers and chips bags flying everywhere, a can of Pepsi hitting the pavement and exploding, sending the fizzy liquid spraying all over both Dr. Lecter and Benjamin. That was the final straw for Ben, who, unlike Hannibal, was not as efficient at keeping his emotions in check.

“Fucking hell, man. Really? Gotta tie your goddamn shoe here?” He hissed, looking down at his Pepsi-splattered shirt and khaki shorts before glaring at Hannibal, who had collected a few of the salvageable papers from the pavement. The tingle of disgust that he felt whenever confronted with rudeness sang along his skin, and Dr. Lecter raised his maroon gaze to Ben’s, his expression cool, yet disdainful.

The hair raised on the back of Ben’s neck at the intensity of the other man’s- was that red?! Who the fuck had red eyes? Swallowing hard, a little of his bravado vanishing, he stood firm, his jaw set and eyes angry.

Hannibal spoke coolly, though disdain echoed in every word that left his lips.

“I was retrieving my keys, thank you kindly. And I believe you were the one who ran into me.” The doctor spoke softly, once again clutching the box of papers under his arm. The doctor’s attention was captured by the man’s eyes, their shining emerald green a stark contrast to the well-tanned skin on his face, before he snapped back to reality. Noticing someone’s eye color at a time like this... really, Hannibal. Absurd. He noticed how the sandy-haired man flinched slightly once their gazes locked, and smirked internally, knowing that he had this man’s fear of the unknown on his side. Maroon eyes, eyes he had inherited from his mother, were extremely uncommon. And people noticed them. Feared them. He didn’t mind at all, especially at a time like this.

“I don’t give a rat's ass what you were doing. It’s whatever. Have a nice fucking day.” Ben fumed at how the man remained completely calm, where most would have been in his face and matching his fury with their own. The completely unperturbed exterior of the man whom had run into him unnerved him, and put him more on edge than he had already been. He whirled and stormed off to his truck, starting the engine and revving it much louder than he needed before pulling out and peeling away. Casting a glance at the clock, Ben swore out loud. The hold-up at the line in Costco and the argument with the guy in the parking lot was going to make him late for the appointment with the shrink. He still needed to go home, unpack his shit and change, and then drive to the guy’s place, a good twenty minute drive away.

“Shoulda stayed in bed...’ he grumbled to himself as he sped towards home.

 

~

 

Shaking his head once more in memory of the fiasco at the store, Dr. Lecter hurriedly finished buttoning his navy button-down, tucking it into his slacks, once again glancing at his watch. The appointment was scheduled to start in ten minutes, but due to the lag at the store and the unnecessary argument in the parking lot with whoever the oaf had been, he had gotten home later than he had planned. Now, as he fixed his tie and swept his eyes over the chair and couch where his patient would be seated, some of the afternoon’s stress left him. After this session, maybe he would take a walk down to the pier, stroll along the beach. Buy himself supper in one of the cities many seaside cafes, perhaps. The more Hannibal thought about after the appointment, the better he felt. Taking his seat in the chair, his gaze flicked up to the clock, his nose wrinkling slightly as he realized his patient was already 3 minutes late. Tardiness was a pet peeve of Dr. Lecter’s, especially on a day where he had already had his fill of being aggravated. A soft sigh left his lips as he folded his hands together over his stomach and settled in to wait.

 

A little over two blocks away, Ben Stephens was zipping towards the doctor’s townhouse, well over the speed limit and cursing every 30 seconds. The longer he had to stew the angrier he got, thinking of that stuck-up prick in the parking lot.

“Goddamn asshole. Couldn't just get out of the damn way or nothin’, had to fuckin’ pop up right in front of me...” A steady stream of grumbles and curses were spat in the car before he finally pulled up at the address he had been given, fixing his tie as he got out. This... was dressing up, for him. With an untucked, plain white dress shirt and a red silk tie, along with dark denim jeans, Ben felt uncomfortably formal. He wasn’t used to this “dressing up for people” business, and didn’t like it. But, apparently this guy was high end and fancy. Explained why he was expensive as fuck. Running his hand through his unruly hair in a vain attempt to smooth it, he jogged up the steps to the door of the elegant house and rang the doorbell, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, hands in his pockets.

Hannibal’s head came up at the sound of the doorbell and he rose in a moment, walking not rushed, not leisurely, but at a consistent pace towards the door, pulling it open as he reached it. Ben started talking before the door had fully opened, before he could see the man in front of him.

“Sorry I’m late, dude. Got held up at Costco, some asshole was...” Ben’s eyes met Hannibal’s and recognition flashed, the end of his sentence dying on his lips. Without missing a beat, Dr. Lecter replied coolly, his smile polite.

“That’s Doctor Asshole to you, my friend. You’re twenty minutes late.” 

 

 


	2. Two.

Surprisingly enough, Dr. Lecter’s first psychiatric session with Benjamin went relatively smoothly. After the first few moments of proper introductions and awkward half apologies, the two men settled into their seats and began. Ben was nervous, understandably so. Even those who met the doctor and were not his patients had reportedly found the man intimidating at first, a fear soon washed away by an almost uncanny feeling that they could tell him anything.

“Mr. Stephens, nightmares are a relatively normal problem. I can guarantee you that upwards of ninety-eight percent of humanity has experienced a nightmare, or night terror, sometime in their life. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” Dr. Lecter had soothed after Ben had muttered the reason he had booked the appointment in the first place.

“I ain’t embarrassed!” Ben snapped, his face flushing as he scowled and dropped his gaze to the floor. Yeah, he fucking was. He was a grown-ass man, they didn’t have nightmares like some sissy little kid. “I’m just... frustrated, I guess. Sick of missin’ sleep.” He mumbled before sitting up straighter on the couch, his hands hanging loosely as he rested his forearms on his thighs. The session continued like this, with Ben growing defensive whenever the subject of his nightmares was brought up, and Dr. Lecter smoothly, easily soothing him back to level-headedness. Back and forth they bantered, with Ben shying away every time that Hannibal attempted to get him to confess what his nightmares were about. Frustrating yet intriguing, the doctor mused as he listened to the sandy-haired man neatly dodge yet another attempt at unveiling what his nightmares were made of.

Eventually, the session drew to a close. Standing up and holding out his hand, Ben couldn't help but be drawn to his doctor’s gaze again. Whoa, buddy... not “your” doctor. He’s the doctor. What the fuck? The maroon still freaked him out a little bit, but he found that after a good two hours of having to meet those eyes with his own, it was less scary, more interesting. Who had red eyes, really? Maybe tinted contacts? Yeah, that was probably it. The guy was probably one of those new-age people, or whatever. Messin’ around with all that freaky shit.

“Thanks, Dr. Huntington. I ‘preciate your time. And, uh... sorry about before, again. That was pretty douchey of me.” Ben apologized as Dr. Lecter took his offered hand and shook it firmly. Hannibal smiled a little in spite himself at Ben’s muttered apology, surprised himself by noticing how warm the other man’s hand was, and how strong it gripped his own. But then again, that strength looked in proportion to how the rest of his his patient looked, physically. Tall, well-built, with broad shoulders and a solid chest, Ben looked every inch the California beach boy. Blinking once in shock at his own thoughts, Dr. Lecter almost stumbled over his reply.

“Er... it was my pleasure, Mr. Stephens. And it’s Gabriel, I insist. If I’m to ask you to tell me what’s inside your head, I think you should at least be able to call me by my first name.” Dr. Lecter chuckled slightly, and Ben grinned. “And as for before, consider it forgotten. I was just as much at fault as you were.” With this admittance he nodded. The more he thought about the incident in the parking lot, the more guilt he felt. Perhaps not guilt, per se, but a few reasons why it wasn't simply Benjamin’s rudeness that had set him off. Dr. Lecter wasn’t familiar with guilt. Or most emotions.

“Alright... Gabriel. Then call me Ben, okay? Mr. Stephens gets me all twitchy and makes me feel old.” Ben chuckled softly and swallowed hard, the question that had been burning on his mind suddenly bubbling to the surface. “Hey, Doctor... is that eye color natural?” He blurted suddenly, embarrassment flooding through him the moment the words left his lips. Dr. Lecter blinked once and laughed aloud, shaking his head gently as he dropped Ben’s hand. He’d been wondering when that question would be asked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact they are... Ben. I inherited them from.. from my mother.” All at once, the doctor’s mask came back up, his voice once more growing cool and polite. Ben’s brow furrowed in slight confusion, wondering if he had said something wrong. Yeah, askin’ a guy about their eye color wasn't exactly social norm, but he hadn’t seemed to take it the wrong way...

Hannibal’s former friendly demeanor froze over like a pond in the winter, and once more, he was as cold and callous as a crusader in a tomb. Not because of what Ben had asked, no. But of the memories that his simple question had brought upon him, hammering at the doors of his mind and howling to be recognized. He could not allow the memories of his mother, what had happened... no, they would stay locked up in the ghastly dungeons of his mind, where they could not harm him. A question from this man wouldn’t bring them forth. Because collapsing to the ground in front of his patient, screaming with the horror of those memories... wouldn’t look very good on his record.

“Ah... well, that’s... cool.” Ben nodded, noticing how the doctor immediately shut down, freezing and once again becoming the infuriatingly cool, polite man he had met before. He didn’t like it. Not one fucking bit. What had he done? What had he said? Fuck, was the guy still pissed that he had drenched him with Pepsi? “I’m just gonna... well, yeah. Guess I’ll see ya next time, Doc. Have a good night.” Ben nodded jerkily once more, before turning and walking out the door, a resounding click echoing behind him as he walked to his car, got in, and drove away.

Hannibal didn’t move. He stayed still as the other man turned and strode away, still as the door swung shut and the lock clicked. He only moved once the sound of Benjamin’s truck had faded away into the cool Santa Monica night, walking back into the silent house and flicking off the lights as he went. Why had Ben’s question knocked him back into what he had been for so long? Why had he... thought the things he had? He had noticed the man’s body, for Chrissakes. His eyes. What the hell was he supposed to do with that? Shaking his head as he made his way up the stairs to his bedroom, Hannibal hoped that tonight, if he was lucky... his own demons would let him sleep peacefully. Deeper down, he knew that they wouldn't.

 

~

 

Maroon eyes. The eyes Ben had seen, now weeks ago, still floated through his dreams, a welcome interruption to his nightmares now. In fact, as much as he denied it to himself... he craved them, and whom they belonged to. Not in any physical way or anything... he wasn’t gay. No fucking way. But he craved the peace they brought, the peace that his sessions with Dr. Huntington brought him. He slept a little better now, the nightmares at least weren’t nightly anymore. The doctor was teaching him how to manage his dreams, how to keep them tightly under his control, and how to wake up almost on command. It was a little eery, almost, how comfortable Ben felt in such a short time around him. Like he could tell him anything, confess his darkest secrets, and they would be kept safe; just like how safe he was in his dreams, when Dr. Huntington strolled through.

That fact should have bothered him. The fact that he was dreaming about his psychiatrist at all should have bothered him. But for some strange reason... it didn’t. It felt natural, easy. Would Ben ever admit that out loud? Hell to the no, he wouldn’t. But as the weeks passed and the sessions wore on, he finally did admit one thing, something that Dr. Huntington had so passionately sought after in their very first session. The subject of his nightmares.

The duo had been seated, as was usual, both on their respective seats, easily talking. Hannibal was finding his sessions with Ben to be more and more enjoyable, the other man proving to be a smart, witty, entertaining conversationalist. It was strange, how easy it was to talk to Ben. Easier than it had ever been, with... anyone.

“Gabriel?” Ben had suddenly questioned one day, and Hannibal found himself wishing he knew what the sound of his real name, his given name, would sound like in Ben’s deep, rumbling brogue. He felt like he could listen to that voice all day, and gladly so. And even though that fact should have bothered him... it didn’t. He couldn’t help the fact that his patient had a very... pleasing voice. The shivers that shot down his spine at Ben’s crooked grin and the way he pronounced Gabriel? Those were from a draft in the room, he assured himself.  He’d have to get the ventilation inspected.

“Yes, Benjamin?” Hannibal spoke pleasantly with a hint of a smile, knowing how Ben hated being called by his full name. The well-built man snorted and shook his head with a little grin, running his hand through his thick hair before straightening up, his previously relaxed stance gone. Hannibal cocked a well-tended brow, noticing the younger man’s chance of body language in a heartbeat. What was this? Ben was... never nervous. Always relaxed, looking right at home on the couch, a fact which Hannibal didn’t mind at all. Cocky even, at times. This was abnormal, for him.

“I... can I tell ya... shit.” Ben swallowed hard, rubbing his hands together, a nervous habit Hannibal had noticed. The mental image that flashed in his head shocked him. It consisted of him walking over to the couch, taking Ben’s hands in his own to still them, ease him, and listening. Offering comfort not just verbally... but physically. That was... not appropriate in any normal setting, much less in this sort of situation, with a patient. Swallowing hard, Dr. Lecter, simply waited wordlessly, his eyes never leaving Ben’s face as he settled his hands across his stomach. “It’s... about those nightmares, I been havin’. I guess I never really told ya what they’ve been about...” Ben chucked in a desperate attempt to break the silence in the room, wishing Gabriel would say something. Gabriel... it was such a fancy name. Wasn’t that an angel’s name? He wasn’t much of a bible-banger,  but he was pretty sure it was. Up there with Michael, or something. Fuck, Ben. Stop distracting yourself and spit it out.

“No, you haven’t. But Ben, if you’re not feeling comfortable...” The doctor began, before Ben shook his head quickly and cut him off.

“Nah. I ain’t gonna pussyfoot around it no more. Might as well just spit it out.” He heaved out a sigh before slumping back in his chair, his hand loosely trailing through his thick, unruly hair. Hannibal didn’t like this. He didn’t like watching Ben slump as though he was defeated, the light in his normally bright, vibrant green eyes faded slightly. “My old job... I was a photojournalist. Got sent all over the place, to snap pictures of anything and everything. My last gig... Syria. You know the shit that went down there? You know, the shit that never really ends? Yeah, I got sent right into the thick of it.” Ben paused for breath, his broad palms scrubbing over his face. For some strange reason, he was grateful Dr. Huntington was here. He made it easier to deal with this, these memories, odd as that was.

“I saw.. some really fucked up stuff, Gabriel. Really goddamn fucked up. They have real bad street mobs over there. Saw a guy get beat to death, once.. He didn’t even do nothin’, just got in the way. Messed up...” Ben took another deep breath, his eyes closed, pictures and noises behind his eyelids and in his head making him flinch slightly. Jesus, he hated reliving this stuff. “One night, I was out with a buddy of mine, tryna get some good night shots of the city, ya know? We were walkin’ along, just mindin’ our own business. Course, your business is everybody’s business over there. These guys come out, holdin’ rocks and sticks, and I know we’re in trouble. I kept tryna flash our press badges and holler that we were journalists, that they weren't supposed to hurt us, but they didn’t fucking listen...” The sound of Ben’s fist smacking down onto the small coffee table would have made most people jump, but Hannibal remained still. Ben didn’t need commentary right now. He needed someone to listen.

“They jumped us both, fuckin’ bastards. Ronnie, my buddy...” The man’s voice caught for a minute, and his speech faltered, both of his hands fisting in his hair before he took another deep inhale and went on. “They beat him to death, Gabriel. Right in fronta me. They jus’ held me down and hit me a couple times, but not like they hit him. They just kept hittin’ him, and I was hollerin’ for them to stop, we were press...” Ben’s voice broke, then. His voice stopped and the glint of the tear that slid down his cheek caught the light in the room before it fell to the floor. Hannibal moved from his seat, almost unconsciously, and over to the couch where Ben sat, his head cradled in his hands. The doctor lightly rested his palm on Ben’s shoulder, his voice soft when he spoke, and Ben found himself leaning into the other man’s warm touch, the comfort that his accented voice offered.

“My condolences for your friend, Ben.” Hannibal finally spoke, for once... unsure of what to say. Here in front of him sat a man, a strong, brave man, who was hurting. And Hannibal knew the pain of loss, more than he would ever care to admit. He knew it like an old friend. “Benjamin, I understand.” The sound of his full name brought Ben’s head up, shame in his face at the drying trail the lone tear had left on his cheek. Hannibal’s hand tightened slightly then, as crimson met emerald, the touch no longer the polite, brief contact from a stranger. Hannibal's hand, now gently rubbing Ben's shoulder, was the touch of a man who knew what he had felt. The touch of a man who understood. And as Ben looked up into his doctor’s eyes, he knew when Gabriel said he understood... he truly did. He wasn’t alone anymore. And so, for the first time... Ben began to heal. 

 

 


	3. Three.

Time passed, as it always did. In the form of hours, days, weeks...336 hours, 14 days. That marked the time that had passed between Dr. Lecter’s and Ben’s last appointment. 336 long, dragged out hours, and 14 long, dragged out days. Dr. Lecter, at the end of the session in which Ben had spoken about his nightmares, had kindly made the suggestion that Ben keep a journal to document whenever he had a flashback, a nightmare, or a strong feeling about what had happened to his friend. Ben had tentatively agreed. He hadn’t written since coming home from Syria, even though writing had always been a love of his. He had stopped his habit of sitting down, either typing away at his computer or scrawling across paper whatever his mind spoke to him, his pen bringing the words to life. But after Gabriel’s gentle urging, the wordsmith in him slowly stirred to life once more, and he found himself making entries more than he had been suggested to do. Once, twice, sometimes even three times a day, Ben’s pen flew across the pages in the expensive looking leather-bound volume Dr. Huntington had given him, filling the blank pages with his words.

Once in a while, even...he caught himself writing about his doctor. He wasn’t just the doctor anymore, as he had started off as...he was Ben’s doctor. Maybe it was just a little fantasy to make him feel better, to help his wounded mind heal, but he liked to think that maybe Gabriel spent more time with him than he did his other patients. Maybe he treated him with a little more care, a little...Jesus, Ben. What the hell are you thinking? You’re his patient, not his priority. Calm your balls down. And so, once more, the younger man would retire back to waiting, back to counting the 336 hours that had passed since his last appointment, until he could talk to, see, Dr. Huntington again. Today, in order to pass the time, Ben had decided to go for a walk down to the beach, and grab himself some dinner.

A few miles away, Dr Lecter was having some difficulties of his own dealing with time away from Ben. He had done everything he could think of to take his mind off of his tall, green eyed patient, and infuriatingly enough, none of his normal tactics were working.  Reading a book, even a good one, his favorite? Wasn’t working. Sketching? He only found his hand and the charcoal shader within it creating an image of Benjamin Stephens upon the paper, and frustrated, he had crumpled up the expensive sketching sheet and thrown it into some dark corner. Even attempting to relax on his balcony with a glass of Chianti in his hand, taking in the spectacular view of the Santa Monica shoreline that his townhouse boasted wasn’t enough. His mind stubbornly kept drifting back to the feeling of actually having touched Ben at their last appointment, how warm his skin had been, even beneath his soft linen shirt. He imagined that Ben was probably one of those people who were natural furnaces, and found himself thinking that being pressed up against him, holding him in his arms would be even warmer...

What are you thinking, Hannibal?! Shaking his head vigorously to clear it of the inappropriate image in his mind, Dr. Lecter stood up suddenly, finishing the last of his wine in a final swallow before striding purposefully off of his balcony and through the house. Being alone in his home right now wasn’t doing him any favours, and neither were the seemingly constant, vivid mental images of Ben. Tonight, he would take himself out for dinner, maybe a stroll along the beach, and perhaps if he was in the mood, go for a swim. Maybe the cool Californian waters would wash away the turmoil and confusion inside his mind. Benjamin was his patient. Nothing more. Nothing more. He was to help the man heal, aid him in defeating his nightmares, set him steadily on his own two feet, and send him on his way. Then, life would return to normal. Faceless women and wine, dinners and opera parties...what he was used to. Strangely, that thought brought no comfort to Hannibal as he left his home and headed towards the pier.

Ben had been lounging on the beach for over an hour, shirt off and in the sand beside him, soaking up the evening sun’s rays. He shot a grin at a giggling college girl who was surrounded by her friends and adjusted his shades over his eyes before sitting up and stretching, the sound of his stomach growling prompting him to heave himself up and stand, brushing the sand off of his swim trunks. It wasn’t abnormal for most people who lived near the beach, like Ben, to wear their swimwear when they went out and about, as he was planning to do tonight. Throwing his AC/DC t-shirt on again over his head and casting one last wink at the blushing and giggling girl, he rolled his eyes behind his shades, stepping into his flip-flops and walking away. All those preppy little college girls, tryna get some action over the break...fuck, it made his dick soft. Thought they were so damn cute. Yeah fuckin’ right.

Jesus, he was pissy lately. Like he was PMSing or some shit. Shaking his head and brushing back the lock of hair that fell into his eyes, Ben kept walking towards his favorite little restaurant, a family-owned place right on the water. Nice place, called Seaside Eats. He was a regular patron there, so all he had to do was smile at the lady behind the counter and walk back into the sundeck area, where he usually sat. Walking towards his booth and seeing a head sporting a white fedora just over the top of the seat, a frown tugged at the corner of his mouth. The fuck? Nobody usually sat back here, and that seat had a kickass view. That was why it was his seat.

“Um...excuse me, man. I had a reservation for this table?”

 

~ 

 

Dr. Lecter had also enjoyed some downtime on the beach, relaxing with his book and dealing with nearly the same problems as Ben. Even for an older man, into his forties, Hannibal was naturally trim and well-toned. His skin, formally ghost pale, had picked up an even tan with healthy doses of the sun and hours spent on the beach. Resting his weight on his elbow as he sat in the sun, his loose white linen shirt open at the top few buttons and knee-length khaki colored shorts making him a sight to see as he lounged on the beach, white fedora perched neatly on his head. A few of the college girls that had giggled and batted their lashes at Ben found their gazes lingering on the handsome older man a little longer than they had meant to, but unlike Ben, Hannibal didn’t take the time to acknowledge their presence.

After a while of relaxing and taking in the sight, smell, and sound of the sea, the doctor rose and strode in the direction his previously purchased map told him a restaurant was located in. Seaside Eats, or some cliche beach restaurant name. However, the reviews of the place had been positive, so he had chosen to take a chance and try it out. The worst that would happen was he would end up having paid some ridiculous price for a waste of food. Walking into the restaurant, it seemed quaint and homey, with its driftwood and pale blue interior, various fishing tools and mounted sea animals on the walls. After being shown to a booth by a waitress, who blushed and giggled softly as he thanked her, he heaved a sigh of relief and sank into the worn, padded chair, glancing out the window. He imagined that the girl had taken him to this booth in an effort to impress him with the view, and though the view was spectacular...he wasn’t biting at her flirtatious advances.

He sat for a while, waiting for the waitress to come back with water and take his drink and dinner orders when a rough, gravelly voice sounded over his shoulder. His head snapped around with recognition, only to see the subject of his drawings, his thoughts over the past two weeks; standing there before him. The broad grin that split over his face was unavoidable, neither was the surge of happiness that rushed through his veins. Maybe it was wrong...but right now, he didn’t care.

“Is that so? Well then, I guess we’ll just have to share, Mr. Stephens.” Hannibal grinned as he spoke.

Ben’s eyes had widened when the man had turned in his seat and revealed himself to be Dr. Huntington, and his own wide, shit-eating grin had broken over his mouth, his heart skipping a beat as the radiant smile transformed the doctor’s face. Jesus, that smile...he could get used to that sight. Gabriel looked twenty years younger when he smiled, all bright white teeth and happy eyes, and Ben’s knees went a little weak. Is...is he smilin’ cause I’m here? That couldn’t be it...He laughed aloud at Gabriel’s response, bolding swaggering over and sliding into the seat across from the psychiatrist.

“Yeah,  I reckon we’re gonna have to, Doc.” Ben smirked in Dr. Huntington’s direction, knowing how the man hated that nickname, the roll of the doctor’s eyes proving his point. “What brings you to this little place?” Ben waved his hand at the restaurant in general, before resting one arm over the back of the booth's seat. “I mean, ‘scuse me if I’m wrong...but I just took you for I dunno, a fancier sorta guy. Nice five star places, or somethin’. With those fancy snails, or whatever they are...”

“Indeed, Benjamin,” Hannibal replied politely with a hint of a devilish grin as he countered the “Doc” comment with Ben’s full name. He laughed aloud as Ben mentioned the “fancy snails” and grinned throughout his reply. “I’ll admit that usually, that description fits me quite accurately. However, tonight... I was in a mood, as it were. I felt like something a little less “high end.” And if you mean escargot? They never tickled my fancy. Could never stomach them.” Dr. Lecter chuckled softly and patted one hand over his trim stomach, and Ben found his eyes following the movement and fully noticing for the first time what a fine male specimen his doctor was. Tan European skin, tall, taller than he was, well built, with muscle tone that was hard to miss. He’d be something to see, sprawled out on the beach and letting the sun wash over his skin...Whooooaaaa. Easy, big guy. Not cool. Before either of the two men could continue speaking, however, the flirty waitress from before had sashayed over to their table and was asking in an overly sweet voice what they would like to drink.

Ben ordered a beer and Dr. Lecter a glass of simple Chardonnay, the wait surprisingly short before the bottle and the glass were set upon the table before them, and the girl bustled off again with promises to be back in a jiffy. Ben took a swig of the ice cold brew and watched as Dr. Huntington did the same, a hell of a lot more daintily than he had. The younger man found himself staring as the doctor took a sip from his glass, the way his lips formed around the rim of the goblet, and a sudden flash of heat shot down Ben's spine. Jesus, man. Knock that shit off. Shaking his head firmly to dislodge the thoughts and sensations that had suddenly made themselves at home in his mind and body. To be honest... they scared him a little. Maybe not scared, but freaked him the fuck out. He wasn’t gay. Chicks were his thing. Always had been, always would be.

Across the table, Dr. Lecter was having some similar thoughts, along with some physical feelings that were alien to him, setting his previously warm, friendly mood on slight edge. He was only having dinner. Sitting across from another man, albeit a tall, strong, handsome...Stop that. That’s absurd. Placing the calm, docile smile back across his face, Hannibal opened his mouth to begin to speak before the preppy, overly cheerful waitress came bounding up to their table, yet another button undone on her shirt and an obscene amount of cleavage that she oh-so-willingly showed the two men, greeted with looks of disdain, and in Ben’s place, a low snort.

Classless sluts, these days...a look of mutual disgust was shared between Ben and Gabriel, and for a moment, a thought ran rampant through Ben’s mind. He wore fancy clothes, worked high-end, didn’t look twice at a pair of tits practically in his face. Was...was Dr. Huntington gay? Jesus, he’d never even thought about that before...And he couldn't deny the flash of something, maybe relief, maybe arousal, something, that shot through him at the feeling.

“House burger, no onions please.” Ben spoke suddenly, snapping himself out of his trance, unknowingly doing the same to Dr. Lecter, who ran his eyes over the menu once more, frustrated with himself at being so caught up in his thoughts concerning Ben that he hadn’t had the time to make an appropriate decision for dinner.

“Make that two, please and thank you,” Hannibal ordered a mere moment after Ben had spoken, and then added, “but keep the onions.” With a sickly sweet smile and an unnecessary sway of her hips, she was off again.

Ben’s eyebrows rose at Gabriel’s order, eyeing him with interest. More time passed, with friendly talk passing between the two men. Ben with his arm thrown over the back of the seat, Gabriel sitting comfortably before the food arrived. Dr. Huntington’s gaze dropping to the burger before the waitress left, his eyes narrowing just slightly as though he was wary of the food. Ben barked out a laugh.

“Didn’t take ya for a burger and fries kinda guy, Gabriel...” He laughed as he talked, a faint flush creeping up on Dr. Huntington’s face, which only made Ben grin wider. Grumbling incoherently, something about how he was perfectly capable of eating something aside from escargot, Dr. Huntington picked up the burger and bit into it, the unfamiliar taste of processed beef and sauce making his stomach roll, but keeping his face calm, chewing and swallowing serenely before looking up at Ben.

“I can be... low-end.” Both Ben and Gabriel held straight faces for approximately 4 seconds before they simultaneously roared with laughter, the rest of the night accompanied by the occasional french fry flicked at each other, smiles and teasing abounding, with thoughts and feelings dancing on the edges of each of their minds. That night... was a good night.

 

 


	4. Four.

Days passed, with both Ben and Dr. Lecter keeping much more in touch than they had in the previous weeks. Phone calls were exchanged, along with a few strictly business meetings, and of course the usual sessions. All business, none as friendly as the night at the diner had been. Both men had been considerably shaken after they had said their goodbyes and parted company that night, the thoughts and sensations that had plagued their minds and bodies unnerving them. It was on one of the rare nights that both Dr. Lecter and Ben had to themselves. On one side of the city, Hannibal found himself pacing his living room restlessly, thoughts of Ben, thoughts that seemed never-ending, flooded his mind. It wasn't right, how he thought of his patient. His smile, those striking green eyes, his physique... No, it wasn't right at all.

In fact, it was starting to become worrisome, making the doctor restless and antsy with repressed frustration and confusion. He needed something, a release, a quick and easy outlet for his boiling inner demons. Murder? As deliciously tempting at that was, one glance at the steadily ticking clock upon Dr. Lecter's wall told him that it was far too late, past the busy times on the street even, to find a suitable victim and cover the act. But... there were other ways to ease tension, for a tightly wound man such as he. Sins of the flesh, carnal and primal lusts that any faceless woman could aid him with. He'd done it before. Found a shabby bar late at night, when murder was not an option, and smooth-talked a woman into coming home with him. Ridiculously easy, it was. It would take Hannibal barely twenty minutes before he'd have a woman practically in his lap, crawling all over him, pathetically practically begging for him to take her home.  

And he'd comply. Murmur false words of affection in their ears, promises of pleasure and sinful desires fulfilled. A quick ride home, or if he didn't want them there, to a somewhat clean motel, and he'd use them to achieve the release of tension he needed. It was horrible. How he hated the way they'd whine and simper under him, their glitzy plastic nails scratching into his back and shoulders, the taste of alcohol on their mouth when they kissed him. They always wanted to kiss him. But the worst was how, when he'd finish, how those faceless objects of release would mumble and cuddle into him, as if they expected him to stay. A few had even thought that the passionless union that they had engaged in was grounds for a relationship. As if. But he'd always slip away, sated at least for the time being, and he'd return home to wash the sweat and smell of sex off his body, all the while shuddering with revulsion. It made him sick, these nights. But, without the ecstasy of the kill... It was all he had.

Tonight, driven near mad with repressed frustration and anger with his confusion over Ben, Hannibal was near frantic with desperation to gain release. His near uncanny skill at keeping his emotions completely and totally in check took a toll that no one but he knew. That toll demanded that all the tension he didn’t show be expelled somehow, and only two things satisfied that need. Tonight... it was his least favorite of the two that he found himself looking at. He was happy in Santa Monica, he did not want to leave, be driven out by his own demons just yet. So, at 2am on Friday night, Dr. Hannibal Lecter found himself walking down the warm, moonlit streets of the city, towards the brightly lit neon streets, loud music and couples intertwined together in the alleys, against cars. It was disgusting. Senseless depravity, basic human lusts bared for all to see, shameless. And here he was, willing to let himself fall into the very same pit, all for the sake of release.

Dr. Lecter began to wonder what Ben would think of him if he saw him in this place, and immediately shut the thought down. He was here to drive Ben out of his mind, not dwell on him. Shaking his head and stepping into a bar that he didn’t care to notice the name of, the smell of rut and cologne nearly made him retch. Immediately there were bodies pressed up against the dark red shirt he wore, grinding against his front and back, the overpowering need to get what he needed and get out driving him near mad. Hannibal’s crimson eyes scanned the crowd, moving as quickly as he could through the throng of people, a woman suddenly appearing in front of him, an attempted sexy smirk on her face, reeking of alcohol. His stomach rolled. But he forced a matching smirk on his own lips and let the girls hands slide around his neck, leaning to whisper in her ear, feeling her press herself against him and giggle. He felt sick.

Dr. Lecter chose to blur out what followed, the flirting and invitations, the drive back to his home. She had insisted, and he didn’t have the time to drop her and find a new one, so he complied. It was blurred with sights and sounds all massing together as he parked and got out, the woman whose name he did not know, or care to learn, practically attacking him the second he unlocked the door. When she kissed him, he kissed her back, the taste of cheap whiskey and some sickly sweet cooler on her mouth, while the two stumbled upstairs. The woman’s squeals and giggles rang through the room when Hannibal, impatient to get this over with, tore her thin blouse in an effort to get it off. It was passionless, near robotic from his end, when he moved atop her on the bed, their clothes on the floor. She greedily kissed him again and moaned when he pushed inside, rocking her hips against him and whining.

God, he felt sick. To stop her from kissing him for at least a moment, he lowered his mouth to her throat and set his lips there, while his hips kept up their steady motion. With his eyes closed and mind screaming in disgust, he couldn't stop the pictures that flashed through his mind. Ben. Not this faceless whore, but Ben, in his arms. Ben’s lips on his, his mouth insistent and greedy. Ben’s body rocking up against his, hard muscle against smooth skin. Imagined Ben’s voice in his ear, begging softly for more. Ben’s teeth against his skin. It was that picture, that flash of what it might feel like to be bitten by Ben, his Ben, that drove Hannibal over the edge of sanity and tumbling into orgasm. The doctor gritted his teeth and lost himself in the spiralling bliss, picture after picture running through his head of Ben. Ben under him; Ben roaring with his own release. The frail plastic nails digging into his shoulders were replaced in his mind by Ben’s strong, wide hands, the feminine voice in his ear by Ben’s rumbling brogue. And Hannibal loved it.

The doctor’s back arched and on instinct, his teeth sank into the skin under his mouth, the girl’s scream of pain and pleasure ricocheting around the room. But Dr. Lecter didn’t hear it. He heard Ben’s bellow of release, his pleading for harder, more... Hannibal came so hard he saw stars, the images of Ben in his mind urging him on, pleasure like he had never felt coursing through his veins. His vision blurred as the thunderous climax slowly died down. Darkness crept in on the edges before his body went limp and he fell back against the bed, off to the side of the woman. He did not even know she was there anymore. All he knew was bone-deep satisfaction, a sleepy smile drifting across his face before sated fatigue dragged the doctor under, his dreams filled with his patient. And Hannibal slept.

 

~ ~ ~

 

As the sun rose, shining across Santa Monica the next morning, Ben was already in his car and on his way to Dr. Huntington’s place. He figured on a lazy Saturday morning, maybe the doctor would appreciate a little company. Or maybe, he could just make an excuse to have an appointment right then and there. Ben was finding a lot of excuses to come for appointments, lately. Little dreams, feeling anxious in the middle of the day... the sandy-haired man used everything he could to see Gabriel again, and each and every time, his doctor would give him a tolerant smile and listen to whatever he had to say. Ben found that was one of his favorite things about Dr. Huntington, his amazing ability to listen. No judgement, no criticism, no interjecting for advice. Just... listening. He needed that, more than he would admit to himself. This morning, he had woken up and immediately checked his phone for missed calls, frowning when he had seen nothing. Ben had called Gabriel the night before, probably about midnight, and gotten the doctor’s voicemail, again at one. Nothing. That wasn’t like Gabriel at all.

Worry pricked at Ben’s gut as he drove, a thousand different scenarios flitting through his head. What if he had gone for a walk and been jumped? Fallen and whacked his head on something? Fuck...glancing down, Ben cursed as he realized that he was going a healthy 15 miles over the speed limit, and slowed right down, his hands tight around the steering wheel. Easy, Ben. He’s fine. Probably lost his phone, or went to bed early or something. Calming only slightly, he knew that it wasn’t true. Over the months that they had known each other, Ben had learned that Dr. Huntington was a night owl, often times not going to bed until three or four am. Scanning the road in front of him and finally spotting the turn to the doctor’s home, he signalled and turned down the road, speeding toward the elegant townhouse and near screeching to a halt. He didn’t know why he was this fucking frantic... but he had to see if Gabriel was alright. This wasn’t like him, not at all. Getting out of his car and practically bounding up the steps, Ben immediately rang the doorbell once, twice, and waited.

 

A soft dinging noise rang through Hannibal’s foggy mind, and he grumbled softly before his eyes slowly fluttered open, a low groan leaving his lips. His limbs felt heavy, and his lips swollen, and the scent of sex and cheap perfume was stagnant in the air. His stomach heaved with revulsion at the realization, and he quickly rolled over, his maroon eyes widening as he saw the sleeping form of the woman he had taken home the night before laying curled up on the bed, her eyes opening with his movement and smiling stupidly up at him, moving to crawl closer. Dr. Lecter practically shot backwards off the bed, embarrassment flooding him when he realized he was naked, scrambling for his clothes while the woman giggled.

“Whatsa matter, baby? C’mere, I could go for round two...” She tried to purr, and his voice was cold as ice when he answered, his boxers and pants on, the rumpled slacks unzipped and button undone. His eyes rested on the woman for a moment, revulsion and hatred making her catch her breath. Dr. Lecter’s maroon eyes blazed, his noble jaw was tight, muscles corded in tension in his arms and abdomen, and his teeth were clenched when he spoke with a white-hot fury.

“Get dressed. Now.”

Her eyes widened with surprise at the look on his face and his tone, but she huffed and relented, before Hannibal heard it again. The ringing of the doorbell. Oh, for Pete’s sake... he didn’t need this now. Who rang on a Saturday morning? Really? God... he needed this whore out of his house. Now. He felt dirty, like he had fallen into a pit of rubbish, and the air itself was tainted with that horrible smell. It was all over his skin, his mouth. Grabbing her forearm rather roughly, her clothes rumbled and mussed, undone in places and torn where he had ripped it, Hannibal towed the woman, complaining and whining and still trying to throw herself all over him, out of his bedroom and down the stairs. And still the doorbell rang. The woman purred and ran her hand down his bare chest, grinning up at him, and he almost retched as he reached for the door to throw her out. Whoever was ringing could deal with her.

 

Ben rang a few more times, his heart thudding louder with each silent minute that passed, pacing back and forth across the doorstep as he waited. And kept waiting. Okay, something was up. For sure. He knew Gabriel was home, the doctor hadn’t told him he was going to be away... maybe he hadn’t thought to tell him? That thought made the flame of hope, that had kindled weeks ago, that maybe Ben was something special to him, maybe he was treated just a little bit better... die slightly in his chest. Maybe he wasn’t, maybe he was just another patient, another source of income for the doctor. Maybe he did the whole dinner and phone call thing with everyone he treated, just to get you to stick around. After all... more appointments, more cash, right? But another part of Ben told him that he was lying to himself. That any second, Gabriel was going to open the door and smile at him, that smile, and all his fears would be gone. Fuck it, he couldn't wait anymore. Reaching forward and grasping the doorknob, turning and finding it unlocked, he twisted and pulled on the door, swinging it open.

Dr. Lecter froze as the doorknob suddenly turned before his hand touched it and the door swung open, the doctor’s eyes meeting the same emerald greens he had dreamed about only last night. No...

Opposite him, Ben had frozen, taking in the sight in front of him. Dr. Huntington, no shirt and barefoot with pants half on, and some...girl, he had never seen before. And the smell of sex. He knew it well. It was funny, the feeling he got. His heart dropped to the soles of his shoes, and he felt the contents of his stomach rise into his throat. Something special, he had thought...

Dr. Lecter felt sick. Sicker even than he had felt last night, buried deep in the girl who was giggling softly, now. The look on Ben’s face...his brow furrowed slightly, his green eyes went dark with pain, and his hand dropped from the door, taking a small step back. Dr. Lecter’s hand left the girl’s arm and he stepped forward to match Ben’s retreat, his voice near pleading when he spoke.

“Ben, it’s not...” It was the closest Hannibal had ever come to begging in his life, his palms upturned and maroon eyes dark with regret, shame, as he looked at Ben, the other man letting out a soft breath and giving a little shrug that sent a earth-shattering fissure running down the doctor’s heart.

“S’alright, Doc. Jus’ swingin’ by to tell ya...I don’t think I’ll be needin’ anymore appointments. Reckon I’ll be okay, now. Thanks for your help.” And with one last nod, Ben turned and walked away, his heart lying on Dr. Lecter’s doorstep.

 

 


	5. Five.

The days that passed, after the morning that Dr. Lecter wished nothing more than to forget, dragged by. Slowly, painfully slowly, he began to realize what had caused his restlessness, what made the days drag by, what was wrong with him. Ben. Or rather, the lack of him. Phone call after phone call, even visiting his house and knocking, nothing. Dead air. And Dr. Lecter was not used to be the one on the receiving end of the silent treatment. Definitely not used to how severely this was affecting him. Every night when he had lain in his bed, the sheets that he and the whore had slept on long burned, torched in a fit of wild regret, he would see in the dark the look of pain flashing across Ben’s face, over and over, a sadistic tape that never ceased its playing in his mind’s eye. And it killed him. But why?

How could he? How could he have dropped himself so low, to practically whore his body out for the sake of a moment of release? Sure, he had achieved it, soothed that horrible demon that lay rumbling in his ribcage, but at what cost? Ben’s eyes, those piercing green eyes, and the pain in them... At most times, the doctor fed on pain. Relished it, gleefully sipped at it like a fine wine. But that look... it wouldn't leave his mind. He had once, a few days after Ben’s silence, attempted to wash his hands of the business and accept the fact that Ben was gone. So he busied himself, his hands working away. He held a book, read for a while. Let his fingers fly across his piano’s keyboard, the haunting melody of “If True Love Reigned” floating through the warm summer air. His hands found the buttons of his phone and dialed Ben’s number once more, and Dr. Lecter did not, could not, stop them.

In his own home, Ben’s hands were busy as well, in much more primal ways than Dr. Huntington's. Strong finger gripped the steel bar of the barbell, his biceps bulging as he lifted, the material of the fabric flush against his back. He lifted again, and slowly lowered. Gabriel’s hands would have been all over her. He lifted again. He probably would have kissed her, too. What would his mouth taste like? Lower, slowly. So he hadn’t been special, after all.... The loud bang that echoed through the room rang off the walls as Ben dropped the weights back onto the bar rest, his skin slick with sweat, sitting up and scrubbing his hands over his face. Nothing special. Just a patient. Why the fuck was this bothering him so much? Jesus, it wasn’t like he and Gabriel had been dating. Right? Yeah, they’d gone out for dinner a few times, spent a shitload of time together... but he wasn’t gay. He wasn’t...

Shaking his head firmly, Ben strode out of his weight room, toweling off his head before the shrill ring of his phone made him look up. He knew who it was before he even glanced at the call display. “Gabriel Huntington.” flashed across the screen, a rare photo of the doctor smiling that Ben had snapped looking up at him from under the name. He stared at the phone for a moment, his eyes sweeping over the doctor’s smile. He wondered why he had kept him as a contact, but his mind reminded him that when he had come home, furious for a reason he didn’t understand, and had went through every call, every voicemail, every picture, everything, deleting them all, and had come across that photo.. he had faltered. The anger in his chest had died, replaced with a cold, bone-deep feeling of hurt. He couldn't bring himself to hit delete on the photo. He couldn't bring himself to attempt to understand how hurt he felt, how played, like a stray dog that had been kicked on the street. It didn’t make sense.

Glancing up at the clock, Ben heaved a sigh when he saw “11:30pm” written in bright green, his shoulders slumping wearily as he trudged to the bedroom. He hated this... this empty, dull feeling, like he was never gonna be happy again. He just felt dead, dry inside, the sun and sand of the beach, the infamously alive city he lived in doing nothing to help him. Crawling under the covers after peeling off his sweats and his t-shirt, he scratched his hand across his abs and yawned into his palm, settling his head onto his pillow and closing his eyes. Ben flinched slightly as immediately, Gabriel’s face came into his mind, the look of regret, pure and unspoiled, streaking across his face before Ben had turned and walked away. Mumbling softly, Ben gratefully let fatigue drag him under, sleep numbing the feeling in his chest if only slightly, before sleep grasped him.

 

~

 

The same alleyways, those same men... Ben felt terror leap into his heart, dread flooding his mind as he knew what was going to happen. His mouth opened to scream the warning to his friend, but no sound came out. He struggled as hard as he could, but invisible bonds kept him standing straight upright, slack and silent when the first man drew his bat high over his head, a wicked smile in Ben’s direction before he brought it down. Another drew a crow bar, each with smiles at him before they began, the horrible screams of his friend echoing through the air, a warm spurt of blood spraying across Ben’s face, before the dream suddenly ended and he shot awake. His eyes rolling with panic and chest heaving as he gulped in air, he thrashed in the sheets that entangled him, desperate to escape. Ben wasn’t even seeing as he managed to escape his bed, desperate for his pills, the pills that would bring the dark and stop the dreams. God, please no more dreams...

He banged into walls, stumbled and tripped over his carpet on his way to the bathroom, little sounds of terror leaving Ben’s lips before he fell into the room and fumbled blinding for the bottle, he needed it, needed, needed... this long fingers closing around the familiar shape and jerkily shaking it into his hand. Nothing. No pill landed on his palm, and his panic skyrocketed. He shook harder, cries of near hysteria now louder, before he dropped the empty pill bottle and shot down the hall again. Gabriel, Gabriel meant safe, he needed Gabriel, he needed to be safe... His mind went on, babbling crazily, his fingers fumbling with his phone, the screen blinding him for a moment with it’s brightness, before one miraculously landed on the speed dial button. Dr. Lecter’s phone, across the city, began to ring.

3am? Who called this early? One immaculate brow raised as Dr. Lecter glanced up skeptically at the clock, his phone ringing insistently. Setting his gaze upon the landline phone, he simply looked for a moment, wondering if he should even bother answering. Letting out a soft sigh as the ringing continued, he set his book across his lap and reached for the small device, hitting the answer button and raising it to his ear, his voice dull.

“Dr. Huntin...” The voice in his ear, ragged and distorted with panic cut him off, and the dullness fell from the doctors shoulders like a shroud as recognition shot through his veins. Ben.

“G-Gabriel.. I need.... help... p-please...” The usually so strong, rough voice spoke brokenly, nearly sobbing into the phone, ripped with panic. “P-please come...” It begged. Without even realizing his own movements, Hannibal was on his feet and starting towards the door, before the cord of the phone caught him, and he stopped.

“Benjamin? Ben, hush, it’s alright... I’m on my way. 10 minutes, Ben. You count them for me.” Dr. Lecter spoke, forcing his voice into something resembling soothing and calm. Ben’s choking out of, “O-okay... hurry...” had him hitting end call and sprinting out the door, in his car and speeding towards his patients house, past caring about such trivial things such as speed limits. Ben needed him. Ben... never broke, not like that. Something was wrong, and Hannibal was already starved enough of being around the younger man. It took him exactly 7 minutes to reach Ben’s house, another 45 seconds to make it to his door. Knocking hard upon the door and waiting impatiently, Hannibal counted to 5 in his head before speaking loudly, surprising himself with how calm, authoritative his voice sounded, even though his heart was racing.

“Ben? It’s Ha- Gabriel. I’m coming in. Back up.” Was this barbaric? Yes. Probably incredibly rude? Indeed. Something he’d never done before? Absolutely. But for Ben... he continued to shock himself to the lengths he would go to for this man. Hannibal took five solid steps back, turning slightly to the side before the formidably sized doctor charged forward, the point of his shoulder colliding with the wood of Ben’s door, just above the lock. The splintering sound of metal and wood breaking apart rang through the air for a moment but, the door did not give in. Redoubling his efforts, Dr. Lecter threw himself into the door once more, the wood splintering and giving way, propelled by his own momentum through the now broken door. Though his shoulder was singing with pain, the doctor did not feel it. He stopped dead for a moment, a little noise catching his attention, a cross between a whimper and a sob, and Hannibal’s heart wrenched. Ben.

Why isn’t he here yet?! He said ten minutes, fuck, it’s been more than ten minutes, it’s been more than ten fucking minutes... Ben’s chest was heaving as he sat on the couch, his fingernails digging so hard into his palms that blood dripped slowly from his ruptured skin. His eyes were still wild as he sat as still as he could, violently shaking, his heart hammering in his ears. He needed Gabriel here now, why wasn’t he here, why wasn’t... there was a muffled knock at the door, muffled slightly by the panic in Ben’s brain and the sound of his pounding heart, another muffled voice, and then silence. Another whimper left Bens throat before two loud crashes ricocheted through the air, and his throat seized up with fear. Fuck, what if someone was breaking in?! Jesus Christ, he needed Gabriel...

“Ben? Ben, are you alright? Are you hurt?” Dr. Huntington came barreling around the corner suddenly, the first thing catching his attention, Ben’s bare, exposed chest, and the second, the blood that was oozing from Ben’s hands. Oh no... Striding forward and kneeling in front of the apparent shell-shocked man, Dr. Lecter gently set his hand upon Ben’s knee, opening his mouth to speak again, offer comfort, reassurance, anything in the world, anything Ben needed... And was cut off abruptly when two large, muscular arms wrapped like a vice around his neck. Suddenly Ben was in his arms, his face buried into Hannibal's shoulder, his entire body shaking so violently his teeth chattered. Little sobs accompanied with strangled whimper left the younger man’s lips, muffled by the doctors shirt, and Dr. Lecter finally, finally, allowed himself to relent to his desires. He wrapped his arms around Ben as tightly as he could, and held him close.

“G-Gabriel...” Ben managed to choke out, almost crying out with relief when Dr. Huntington’s arms wound around him, so tightly he felt his ribs complain. And he loved it. This was so good, so right, so perfect.. fuck, why hadn’t he done this before. His face pressed up against Gabriel’s shoulder, inhaling the doctors scent, he slowly felt himself begin to calm. He was safe. Gabriel wouldn't let anything hurt him, he would keep the nightmares away. Ben let himself breath in Dr. Huntington’s masculine scent, his fancy cologne, and hugged the doctor even tighter. He didn’t want to let go, not now, not ever. “I’m-I’m sorry... I-I didn’t mean to wake ya up...” He attempted to speak, the words coming out mumbled and raspy.

Dr. Lecter had his nose pressed against Ben’s temple, his palms wandering the broad expanse of his back, expert fingers working and kneading at the taut muscle they found beneath bare skin. Ben smelt good, sinfully good, like a crisp ocean breeze mixed with the faintest scent of peppermint. And he was warm, too. Like a furnace in Hannibal’s arms, the way he was moving and pressing closer, like he wanted to be skin to skin with the other man, and truthfully, at this particular moment in time... Hannibal wanted it too. God, what would that feel like? To have that smooth skin, the chest that was chiseled like a statue of a God, pressed up flush against his own bare chest? Dr. Lecter couldn't help the shiver that ran through him when memories of his fantasies ran through his head, followed immediately by a deep-seated shame. Now wasn't the time.

“Hush, Ben...” Hannibal murmured throatily, his lips almost brushing Ben’s cheek. He was drunk on the sensations that finally holding Ben was giving him, rationality slowly slipping away to the back of his mind. This felt so... good. Like he was made for this. And for a sweet, short moment, he felt peace. The demon’s in his mind and body were silenced, the raging quiet in his mind suddenly filled with song. Ben, after a few long moments of quiet interrupted with little noises whenever the younger man squirmed closer, cast his gaze upwards, letting the doctors eyes catch his own. Hannibal felt an odd sensation in his chest when his eyes met Ben’s, and his subconscious mind finally succeeded in taking over. With one smooth, fluid motion, Hannibal leaned down and closed his eyes, his lips meeting Ben’s. And the world stopped.

A little sound of muffled surprise left Ben’s lips as the doctors met his own, before he relaxed, his eyes fluttering closed. Gabriel tasted... good. Warm, and good. The green-eyed man shifted slightly as to better taste his doctor, and Hannibal moved in sync, his arms sliding around Ben so that their chests were flush, Hannibal’s hands on the small of Ben’s back, Ben’s arms wound around the doctors neck. It was a quiet kiss, a soft kiss, meaning nothing to anyone else.. but it meant the world to the two men that shared it.

 

 


	6. Six.

The soft noises of hands sliding across fabric, little sighs of maybe relief, maybe pleasure, were the only sounds to be heard in the room. Both men were lost, nerve sensors in their minds firing at a million miles an hour. This was so right and so wrong, so good and so terribly forbidden...

Ben seemingly couldn’t get enough of the doctor’s mouth. God, he tasted even better than he had dared to imagine. Warm, masculine, and Dr. Huntington kissed like he knew what he was doing. Jesus fuck, was this good...

Dr. Lecter’s skin was on fire, and Ben’s arms around his neck sent waves of heat flashing through his veins with every movement the younger man made. He had to...just have a little taste. Just...one. Only then could he force himself to stop. Shifting his hands to rest gently on Ben’s sides, Hannibal tentatively prodded at Ben’s bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, cautious of what reaction his boldness would bring.

The electric shock Gabriel’s tongue sent shooting through Ben’s body had his cock hardening instantly in his slacks; a quick inhale pulled into his lungs. His eyes flying open and growing wide as he unconsciously pulled back from the kiss, reality sank back in with the lack of Gabriel’s lips on his. Holy shit. He had just...what the fuck had just happened? Ben’s brain started to spin like a tilt-a-whirl as his arms slowly slid from around Dr. Huntington's neck, a little protest beginning in the back of his mind when he pushed himself backwards and away from the doctor, his body already missing the warmth of the other man’s frame. Fuck, what just happened...

“Jesus...” Was all that slipped from Ben’s lips.

Hannibal blinked as Ben pushed away from him, his sanity slowly coming back online. Maroon eyes grew wide and he shot backwards in a delayed reaction, mouth moving but no sounds coming out.

“I...that...ah...” Hannibal’s eyes flicked around the room and back to Ben sporadically, before the tent in the man’s boxers caught his attention and he had to bite back the groan that threatened with the pulse of sensation the sight sent to his own groin. What had he done?! That was... uncalled for. Inappropriate. Unprofessional. And so sinfully delicious it near drove him wild. “Ben, I... I didn't mean to...” Dr. Lecter nearly stammered, stammered, like some sort of schoolboy. Christ, he needed to get his head sorted out before he made a complete idiot of himself; if he hadn’t done so already. His actions had just crossed so many doctor-patient boundaries it wasn’t even funny.

“You came for me?” Ben breathed out softly, a stone-solid realization suddenly sinking into his mind, amid the fog of confusion, arousal, confusion at his arousal, and the terrors of his nightmare that now seemed eons away. He came for me. When Ben needed had him, he had come. Gabriel looked back at him for a moment, emotions flicking across his face too quickly for Ben to decipher, before he nodded once, his eyes never leaving Ben’s.

“For you, always.”

 

~

 

It was strange. To try and go back to how things used to be. To pretend like nothing had changed. Only after the awkward silence had shifted to talk of Ben’s nightmare and Dr. Lecter had assured himself that the younger man would be alright did he leave, with promises to fix the door that was now busted off its hinges. Ben tried hard to ignore the lick of heat down his spine at the fact that Gabriel had busted down the fucking door to get to him. And Hannibal tried very hard to forget how Ben’s mouth had tasted, sweet with need and laced with the perfect amount of lust. In fact, both men tried hard to ignore the fact that entire evening had happened, aside from the morning when Hannibal had shown up to replace the door, as promised.

Under strict instructions not to help, Ben sat bemused while the stately doctor had wrestled with the new frame, the drill and screws, sweat beading on his forehead before the door was finally taken down and replaced. It was kinda cute, how hopeless Gabriel was when it came to construction. Or any heavy manual labour.

But after that, aside from the regular appointments that were now filled with small talk and uncomfortable silences, frustration grew that the duo tried valiantly to ignore. Late at night, when the burning Californian sun sank below the horizon and dark crept across the city, frustrations that neither of them understood would make their presence known. The knot of scorching lust that seemed to grow hotter day by day was burning a hole in Ben’s gut, no matter how he tried to ignore it. He tried not to think of how good it felt to be in Gabriel’s arms. He tried not to picture being on his knees while his doctor gave murmured orders. He really tried. But he couldn't fight the pictures in his head that came to him late at night when his fist was wrapped around his cock, of his hands behind his back, bound with whatever Gabriel saw fit, kneeling right where he belonged, his mouth stuffed full. The pictures of him bent over that damn fancy desk, Dr. Huntington having his way with him, the doctor’s hand fisted in Ben’s hair and husky commands hissed as his lips brushed his ear...

And no matter what he did, Ben couldn't stop the earth-shattering release that those pictures brought him, the little cries that were laced with Gabriel’s name, while he laid alone in the dark. And he couldn't stop the dreams. The aftercare he knew Gabriel would give. Wrapped up tight in the doctor's arms, safe and warm, his mouth whenever he wanted it. Fuck... maybe he was gay, after all.

Why wouldn't this end? This was so wrong, so very wrong... Hannibal Lecter lay panting in his bed, his lower body giving a small jerk as his hand gave a final stroke of his length. Yet another night where he fell victim to the carnal demons that ceased to quiet in his mind and body. All because of Ben. Benjamin...what did he have? What was so intoxicatingly different about him that every night, the doctor worked himself to a frenzy with only thoughts of him? What would it be like, to be buried as deep as he could go, hand fisted in that sandy blond hair, listening to those whines for more? Or to look down as the boy greedily worked his length, with that mouth...fuck. This was going to drive him insane. Stumbling blearily out of bed, Hannibal tromped into the bathroom and climbed into the shower, letting the hot water pounding against his bare skin ease his mind; if only slightly. He and Ben hadn't had a proper talk since before...a shudder of revulsion rolled through the doctor as he remembered the morning where he had been caught with the whore. What he wouldn't give to turn back time and change that day.

Dr. Lecter glance at the clock after he had stepped out of the shower and dressed. 2am. Ben would be fast asleep, he was nearly certain. Unlike Hannibal, Benjamin was not a night owl. It was far too late to call. What would he say? “Hello, Ben. I know it’s late, but I just came so hard I saw stars thinking about you, and I think you should come over.” Um, no. This was pathetic. Hopeless. And he wasn’t going to dance along the line of blatant ignorance and desperate desire any longer. The “fuck it” he murmured was so quiet that if he had not been alone, it might have been mistaken for an exhale. On his way to the phone, rationality warred with lust in his still fogged brain, and Hannibal’s hand hesitated before it grabbed the phone. He dropped it and fisted both hands in his hair, softly cursing as he turned sharply away. As cliche as it was, Hannibal paced, his jaw wound tight with frustration. He would wait...but not much longer. Tomorrow.

 

 ~ 

 

“Fuuuuuck, shut up...” Ben groaned out long and low with the steady ringing of his phone, his face pressed into the pillow, hands clutching it around his head. This was too fucking early. What was it, like 7? Too. Fucking. Early. It was Saturday, for Chrissakes. Who called at 7 on a Saturday? Grumbling against the fabric of the pillow and reaching out, his large hand fumbled for the iPhone, thumb clumsily tapping the “Accept” button and bringing it to his ear. His eyes stayed closed and he didn’t bother to look at the caller I.D as he answered, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep.

“Mmeeelloo?”

“Ben? It’s Gabriel.” All at once Ben came instantly awake, scrambling to sit up in his mess of sheets, his free hand patting down his wild hair as if the doctor himself were standing before him.

“Did I wake you?” The deep, melodic voice in his ear had Ben’s already thickened cock giving a little twitch. He laughed nervously.

“Me? Shit no, no way. Been up for a good hour, at least. What’s goin’ on?” He lied outright and wondered why he did. Dr. Huntington could see through him like a CAT scan. On the other end, Hannibal couldn’t help but chuckle softly, though his every nerve hummed.

“Oh, I have no doubts. I was calling to request you come by for a... check up, this morning. Of the psychiatric variety, of course.” He cleared his throat. “Just to examine your progress.”

It was weak, a weak excuse, and Ben could hear it in the way Gabriel’s usually so confident voice faltered. Fear immediately flooded his veins and he swallowed. This was it, huh? After all this shit, this was gonna be it. Termination of contract. Huntington didn’t want shit to do with him anymore.

“You bet. Be there in an hour, if that’s alright?”

“Of course. Please don’t rush.” Click. Ben felt sick. And angry. How fuckin’ dare Gabriel just...give orders like that. Toss him around like he was a toy to be played with only when he felt like it. Led him on. For fuck’s sake, the man had kissed him. A good, solid, hot, wet...oh, fuck. Yeah, bull-fucking-shit Huntington was straight. About as straight as the fuckin’ California coastline. Is this what he did? Pick up a boytoy and jerk him around a bit, before he dumped ‘em? Ben fumed as he dressed himself, loose jeans and his faded Ramones t-shirt. His keys jangled in his pocket as he strode out the door, shades hiding his slitted eyes. Didn’t even bother with a courtesy reach-around. Two can play at that fuckin’ game, big guy. There was a little smirk on Ben’s face as he got into his truck and roared off. A plan was formulating.

Dr. Lecter hadn't slept all night, yet tired was the last thing he felt. Everything was humming. His blood, his nerves, excitement and caution duking it out in his head. Head waged war on heart, and dick wasn’t helping either. There was no sense with lying anymore.

The sound of Ben’s truck, its now familiar bangs and crashes pulling into Hannibal’s drive had his heart jumping into his throat. It was one thing to formulate a plan in one’s mind, it was quite another to enact it in real time. Hannibal counted to 15 in his head before the sharp raps at the door came. Very loud knocks, too. One brow raised just slightly as he walked down and pulled it open to see Ben, a smile on the younger man’s face that set the doctors nerves on edge.

“I’m pleased you could make it,” he said warmly, and Ben let out a little laugh as he stepped inside past Gabriel.

“I bet you were just thrilled,” Ben replied with the same smile, and Huntington’s faltered for the slightest second. Ben felt heat build up in his chest, lust and anger. A deadly combination. Good. Let the fucker squirm a bit.

“I was thinking we could consult in my office.” Hannibal spoke slowly, suspicion nagging insistently at the back of his mind. Ben was...not as he had expected him to be. Not genuine as usual, but friendly to mask something else. Something deeper.

“Sure thing, Doc. You call the shots ‘round here.” Ben laughed again before heading towards the stairs and beginning the climb to Gabriel’s study. Hannibal blinked when Ben did not wait for him, and followed after him with a furrowed brow. Snippy little thing he is, today. Perhaps he didn’t sleep well. When the duo had reached the study, Ben letting the door partially close on Dr. Huntington without holding it, Hannibal’s frustration had built up to a boiling point. They had not changed their usual open conversation, nor smiles or eye contact for that matter, and Hannibal felt himself growl internally. How dare this man, who had wantonly flung himself into his arms, ignore him like this. Not for much longer... patience, now. Patience.

Ben, as pissed off as he was, could not help but admire the fine study he entered as he took his seat. Rich dark reds and browns gave the room an almost Medieval feeling to it, high ornate shelves stacked with regal books. The large oak desk dominated the center of the room, and Ben could not resist kicking his feet up, his ankles resting on the edge of the expensive looking piece of furniture. He grinned smugly towards Dr. Huntington, who stood stunned on the opposite side of the desk.

“So, Doctor. Go wild. I bet you’re just itchin’ to pull my brain apart,” he drawled.

Hannibal clenched his jaw and took a seat at the cushioned chair across from Ben, his elbows resting on the smooth wood of the desk and smiling politely. So much snark from one man’s mouth. The sudden image of Ben on his knees, tears in his eyes and gagging, begging wordlessly...infused a sense of power that Hannibal could barely contain. It forced him to straighten up in his chair.

“My dear Benjamin... I’m afraid I lied to you on the phone this morning.” Hannibal spoke calmly, a single slender finger reaching out push Ben’s crossed feet off of his desk. “This isn’t a check-up. It’s a confession.”

 

 


	7. Seven.

Ben narrowed his eyes suddenly, a soft huff leaving his lips as Dr. Huntington pushed his feet off the desk.

“Confession? Since when did you become a priest, Doc?”

Hannibal didn’t laugh. Ben’s chuckle died with the silence in the room and he suddenly felt as though he had lost any control he thought he may have possessed. Everything he had thought about on the drive over crumbled and left him with nothing but a horrible anticipation of what Gabriel was going to say.

On the opposite side of the desk, Hannibal could hear his heart race a mile a minute in his ears and began to feel what he had planned to say balk on his tongue. This could go two very definite ways. Ben would leave and never come back, or Ben would stay and never leave.

“A confession on my part, Benjamin. I believe that you’ve noticed...certain feelings...” Hannibal hesitated and Ben could practically feel the click in his own head as he figured it out. He stood up so fast his chair went over backwards.

“Oh no you fucking don’t,” An accusatory finger was pointed at Gabriel, Ben’s hand nearly shaking. “You can’t... you can’t just fuckin’ do that, Gabriel. Horseshit. You can’t drag me to heaven and hell on the same goddamn day, every fuckin’ day, and then come out here with this “feelings” bullshit. I ain’t gay, okay? Don’t know what you’re fuckin’ smokin’, but I ain’t feeling jack shit.” Ben practically spat across the distance between the two men.

Hannibal stood up. The doctor’s jaw was set and his hands were balled at his sides. To hell with calm and collected. To hell with manners.

“You are, by far, the worst liar I have ever met in my life. I’m not the one who wrapped another man up in a bearhug tighter than-”

“You kissed me, you jackass. Yeah, that sure ain’t gay.” Ben rolled his eyes with a loud snort and Hannibal growled. The sound was deep and feral, and it made heat flood across Ben’s skin like never before. To his both shame and excitement, he felt his cock begin to throb in his jeans.

“And you’re going to stand here and tell me you didn’t whimper like a bitch when I did? That you didn’t enjoy it?” Hannibal taunted as he rounded the desk, Ben not backing down an inch. A funny thing, about humans. We can’t sling verbal barbs from a distance...the closer the better. More personal that way. Ben’s face flushed a deep red, only making his anger burn hotter, his hand coming out to shove the advancing doctor’s shoulder back.

“So what if I did? I was out of it and fucked in the head. A mouth is a mouth. Shit, we were even in the dark, Gabriel. Didn’t mean a god-damn thing.” Ben smirked, the lies he was spewing bringing a sour taste to his mouth. It did mean a thing. It meant everything. It meant the whole fucking world, but he’d rather drop dead than admit it.

Hannibal didn’t stumble with Ben’s shove, merely stepped back with the impact and advanced again. Ben’s words stung like hornets on his skin, but his face showed nothing. The past weeks frustration, bottled up lust and agony of confusion was growing to a point where he couldn't take it anymore.

“Liar. Just look at you.” Hannibal dropped a very obvious gaze to Ben’s straining zipper and gestured towards it with a dry laugh. “I don’t think there’s been a day you haven’t been hard up, around me.”

“Don’t make me fucking kick your ass, Gabriel. You think I’ll have a problem with that?” Ben’s reply was weak, he knew, flustered with his raging hard-on so blatantly acknowledged.

“You’re so cute.’ Hannibal laughed, leaning back against his desk with arms folded over his chest. “As if a little bitch like you could ever-”

The loud crash of two bodies colliding with the bookshelf behind the desk shattered the tension in the air immediately. Ben with vision tinted red flew forward, two arms wrapping around Gabriel’s midsection in a tackle worthy of a linesman. Caught off guard, Dr. Lecter was carried backwards over the desk and onto the floor, grunts of impact leaving both of the men once they had hit the bookshelf. Ben’s hands fisted in Hannibal’s shirt, the doctor’s in his assailant’s collar, teeth bared with exertion and bodies taut with adrenaline and more arousal than either cared to admit.

“Who’s.. the bitch... now?” Ben grunted through a savage grin, and Hannibal smiled up at him before driving his knee up between the other man’s legs. Ben’s face drained of color, a breathless wheeze the only sound he could make, and Hannibal quickly flipped the other man over, straddling his chest and panting.

“I believe, Ben... that it would be you. Open up.” Ben stared up at him with ocean blue eyes wide, reminding Hannibal of a deer in the headlights of an oncoming car.

“I... am not...” Ben hissed, still breathless from the jolt of pain radiating from his groin, struggling against Hannibal’s weight, his arms pinned and thrashing doing nothing. Hannibal grinned savagely, the look of a predator cornering his prey, making sure Ben was securely pinned before moving his hands to his zipper, eyes glinting with crimson lust.

“I don’t recall that being a question. Open,” Hannibal said, his voice ragged and barely calm. Ben couldn't stop himself. He couldn't not watch as the zipper dragged down so slow he knew it was to torture him, couldn't not look away when Dr. Huntington pushed down his briefs and the object of Ben’s dreams for weeks came fully into view.

“Fuck you.” He tried to hiss, but it came out as a whisper. Hannibal laughed softly, his arousal throbbing with how close to Ben’s mouth he was, close enough the younger man’s warm breath painted over his skin with every exhale.

“I will be, soon.” Hannibal hand’s found Ben’s wrists with an almost unnatural strength, a silent wrestling between the two, failing horribly on Ben’s part. This was fucking ridiculous. He wanted it. He was practically coming in his pants with this manhandling, he wanted it so bad.

“You know, Ben...” Hannibal hissed softly, wrestling Ben’s arms back to the ground. “This would be a lot easier...” the tip of Hannibal's swollen, well-endowed length touched Ben’s lips. Just barely, long enough for Ben to feel how hot the velvety skin was, and for his resolve to crumble like weakened cement. “...if you would just...”

Ben opened up.

Hannibal was almost thrown off balance as Ben’s lips parted and the head of his shaft was suddenly enveloped in Ben’s hot, wet mouth. His sharp inhale was audible, hands clutching Ben’s shoulders to catch himself, easing up with a low groan as he relaxed. Ben’s previously tense body unwound slowly beneath him, hands that had been clutching at Hannibal's sides now loosening and merely resting against the top of the older man’s thighs. Dr. Lecter spoke on an exhale.

“That’s better...” He breathed, his head tipping back as Ben’s mouth slid further along the length of his cock, the doctor’s hand winding through Ben’s hair to cup the back of his head, urge it upwards. His hair was soft, and it felt good running through Hannibal’s fingers. “That’s a good boy...”

“Mmmf.” Was the only sound from Ben. His eyes were closed, his nerves humming with this new sensation. This was...new. Not expected. And not at all unpleasant. The doctor was hot on his tongue, solid and throbbing with the beat of his heart, the taste a salty, masculine musk. No, this wasn’t unpleasant at all. The hand sliding through his hair felt... good. Steadying, like a lifeline anchored to shore. “Mmmmmm.”

Hannibal wasn’t sure what was louder. His blood rushing in his ears, or the sound of his pounding heart within his chest. This was...new. Ben’s tongue, tentative and shy, gently traced along the underside of Hannibal's length, bringing a quick inhale from the doctor’s mouth, his fingers tightening unconsciously in Ben’s hair. Slowly, encouragingly, Hannibal stroked the backside of Ben’s head, his free hand sliding behind where he sat straddling his chest, gliding featherlight along Ben’s stomach. When Hannibal’s hand reached what he was looking for, there was a gleam of pleasurable surprise in his eyes. Ben, iron hard in his jeans, was...huge. Not exactly a poetic term, but there was no way else to put it.

Slowly, painstakingly, Hannibal eased the man’s zipper down, careful not to lean so far back as to draw his arousal out of Ben's mouth, pushing the denim aside and letting nimble fingers slide down within his cotton boxers. Winding his hand around the shaft that was heavy with blood, pre-cum smeared already across the tip and feverishly hot to the touch, Hannibal swallowed hard, his mouth dry. Ben’s hips arched up off the ground to press his cock harder against Gabriel’s palm, suddenly craving friction almost as much as he was beginning to crave the cock in his mouth. There was something almost unnatural about how Gabriel tasted, how his hand lightly began to stroke Ben’s length. Something unnatural about how good it felt, about how there was not even the slightest shadow of shame or embarrassment left in any part of Ben.

“Look at me, Ben.” Gabriel’s voice slid across Ben’s skin like silk, a shiver following it and a little, pathetic moan that he couldn't be assed to care about. Opening his eyes obediently, ocean blues flicked up to meet the deep maroon, the quiet power he saw in them enough that if Ben had been standing, he would have been brought to his knees. Hannibal’s thumb stroked along his jaw in time to his hand gently pumping his cock. “Say ahhh.”

Ben’s eyes were hooded, the tone of Gabriel’s voice doing something to him that he didn’t resist for a moment. His bones went to jelly, any and all traces of resistance gone in a heartbeat. Ben’s lips parted around the swollen head of Hannibal’s cock, his tongue out, eyes never wavering from the doctor above him. Hannibal smiled.

“Good boy.” Gently tapping his cock along Ben’s tongue, gliding the tip along his lips, he tutted gently when Ben whined and tried to close his mouth around his arousal once more. “Ah ah. Wait.”

“Gab-”

“Sir.” Ben hesitated before the look in Gabriel’s eyes had him compliant again.

“Sir, plea-” There was a muted gurgle between Ben’s words as Hannibal shifted forward and slid the length of his cock down, past Ben’s parted lips and into his throat. The contraction around the head of his arousal was enough to make Hannibal's eyes flutter, his hand around Ben’s cock slowing suddenly, drawing a desperate whine from Ben, his mouth full. Hannibal withdrew his hand, reaching to offer it palm up and fingers outspread to Ben, his other popping his dick out of the man’s mouth.

“Spit.” he said firmly. Ben blinked hazy eyes and did not move for a moment, confused. Hannibal repeated. “Spit. I’d rather not have you chafed.”

Ben obeyed, spitting onto the doctors palm and tipping his head back as it reached back around and resumed it’s work, slick with saliva and gliding easily now against Ben’s cock. He groaned, his head lazing to the side before Hannibal’s hand was fisting in his hair and guiding his mouth back to where he wanted it. Ben didn’t care how it stung where his hair was pulled. He didn’t care, even as he choked with one of Gabriel’s more forceful thrusts. All he cared about was his doctor’s hand stroking faster and faster around his aching length, how Gabriel’s thrusts into his mouth were growing harder and more erratic.

The doctor was breathing hard, the soft gurgles and gags of Ben doing nothing but urging him on. This violated doctor-patient relationships on so many levels it was sickening, but right now he couldn’t care less.

“That’s...Christ Almighty, Benjamin...” Hannibal hissed softly, his hand in Ben’s hair fisting tight enough he knew it was hurting him, the other squeezing, stroking and pulling at the man’s arousal with as much passion as he was pushing into his mouth. There was a hot and simultaneously freezing feeling gathering in his lower stomach, balls tightening as the thunderous release he knew was coming grew closer. This was sick, this was wrong, this was the most perfect thing he’d felt in God knows when. Ben’s mouth was working him with enthusiasm, sucking with wet, sloppy noises that seemed to echo through the room. Ben’s hips bucked into Hannibal’s palm, his head bobbing of his own accord and without help from Hannibal.

“Mmmgom... Mmmmcu...”

“Stop talking, for Christ’s sake.” Hannibal practically spat, the heat and fervor of the act at hand dragging manners from his mind. “Just...fuck.”

There was nothing left for him to do, but let go. Ben felt it spiralling, down and down like a plane in a nose dive, the orgasm nailing him in the back of the head and shooting down his spine, his bellow of release muffled by his current mouthful. Heaven was miles below him, his head spinning as he felt the hot, salty essence of Gabriel Huntington coat his tongue and slide down his throat, and he’d be damned if he didn’t suck harder when he felt it.

Hannibal felt the warm spatter of Ben’s seed across his hand seconds before his own release found him and rendered him helpless, a powerful buck against Ben’s mouth and a string of muttered Lithuanian curses tumbling from his lips, his eyes clenched tight shut and his teeth gritted as he rode it out. The earth had shattered beneath him, the only thing holding him aloft was Ben.

It was a long time before either of them moved. Ragged pants were the only sounds as Hannibal slid off, knees still too weak to do anything but slump against his desk, still seated on the floor. Little shocks of pleasure ran through his lower body like stray bolts of lightning, little jerks here and there, a fog of heavy satisfaction clouding his mind. Minutes ticked past before both men tucked themselves away, once again clothed but both still feeling naked. Ben stayed on his back, arms sprawled out to the sides as his breathing and heart rate slowed back to normal. What could one say, at a time like this.

“Hey, Doc?”

Hannibal closed his eyes with the nickname, forgiven only due to the rasp in Ben’s voice. “Yes, Benjamin?”

“I think I’m gay.”

 

 


	8. Eight.

Luckily for both Ben and Hannibal, strange was something they were both used to. Almost...strangely so. Days following the incident in the study resembled a child’s finger painting on the wall, no rhyme or reason and no idea what either of them were doing. With a blowjob thrown in here and there.

“GABRIEL,” Ben bellowed from downstairs. Hannibal stared at his spilled inkwell in irritation, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply through his nose.

“Yes, Ben?” he called back, hearing the thud of the other man coming up the stairs. Hannibal hated when he did that.

“Did you get my text? I sent it like an hour ago.”

“We're in the same building. Why on earth would you need to send me an instant message? Who are you trying to be discreet for?”

“I wanted to know if you wanted to rent a movie.”

Hannibal pushed slightly back from his desk, gesturing to himself with an open palm. “You know, I do have stairs. And you have legs. What a coincidence!”

Ben snorted, pocketing his iPhone and glancing around Gabriel’s desk. “Ha ha. Where’s your phone?”

Hannibal turned back to the desk, retrieving some Kleenex to wipe up the spilled ink. “In my car.” He spoke without looking up.

Ben wrinkled his nose, looking down as Gabriel mopped up the mess. It was remarkable, the almost black and white difference between how they interacted in private and at home. Before, it had been easier. Before what? I sucked him off and liked it? Yeah, before that. They could go out as friends and enjoy it. Now, there was something preventing that. An awkwardness so prominent it was almost a physical barrier between them, only disappearing when they were safely out of the public’s eye. Ben hated it.

“Who keeps their phone in their car? What if someone calls?”

Hannibal pointed to the landline phone on his desk without looking up. Ben snorted. “If it is important, they call my landline. If it’s not, I don’t answer.”

“Calling my phone calls unimportant, old man?”

Hannibal looked up over his reading glasses and shot Ben a glare that would have made a lesser man turn tail. “Did you just come up here to bother me?” He frowned when Ben flopped to sit on the edge of the desk, shrugging a shoulder.

“I was lonely.”

Hannibal sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. Clearly Ben wasn’t going to leave. He wanted something. “Would you like to go do something, then?”

Ben cracked a grin almost immediately, hopping off the edge of the desk. “I thought you’d never ask. I’m out of beer and I need a new amp for my guitar.” He waited as Gabriel heaved another sigh and slowly stood, grinning as the doctor grumbled while walking past him.

“Of course you are. Since when do you play guitar...and I’m driving.”

 

Climbing into Gabriel’s Jaguar, Ben settled into the luxurious leather seat, scanning the interior. It was a beautiful car, but he wasn’t focused on admiring it right now.

“Where’s your phone?”

Hannibal turned the key and let the engine roar to life, listening as it settled into a steady purr. He gestured haphazardly to the console. “Somewhere around there, I think.”

Ben moved a large black velcro box out of the way, looking beneath it and furrowing his brow. “Not seeing it.”

Hannibal closed his eyes in quiet tolerance, looking over to where Ben’s gaze rested and then at the box in his hand.

“You already moved it, Benjamin. You’re holding it.”

Ben looked up in confusion before staring at the box in his hand, back up at Gabriel.

“You’re joking.”

Hannibal quirked a brow. “I fail to see how I am.”

Ben shook his head slowly, sinking back into his seat. “Okay... we’re stopping at the Apple store first.”

“Is that where you get your.. amp?”

“Ohhh, you betcha.”

 

A half hour drive later through Santa Monica’s hellish afternoon traffic, Gabriel stood at Ben’s side staring into the stark white interior of the sleek store.

“This does not look like a music store.” Ben clapped Hannibal on the back hard enough to nearly make him stumble forward, his voice cheery.

“That’s cause it ain’t, man. We’re getting you a phone that doesn’t remember the dinosaurs.”

Hannibal snorted, slightly affronted, trailing after Ben’s lead and warily eyeing the sleek shelves. The whole place looked like something out of Star Trek.

Ben paused, plucking a small box off the shelf and waiting until Gabriel caught up.

“This here? The 6. Newest smartphone on the market and the best. Fingerprint identification, the works.”

“I don’t need-”

“Ah ah. Shhh. This ain’t about what you need, this is for me. We’re getting it.”

“Benjamin, I am not purchas-”

“Excuse me? Hey, what’s the price on this?” Ben was already walking away, waving towards one of the employees wandering the aisles. Hannibal turned with a childish huff of indignation, strolling out of the aisle populated by Ben and the employee and moving to browse the rest of the store.

“Pardon me, sir. You don’t happen to carry guitar...amps, do you?” The short, balding man who wore the Apple logo emblazoned across his chest stared at him in confusion.

“Dude... what? Most of the iPads come with GarageBand, if you want that.” Hannibal sighed and nodded slowly.

“I didn't think so. Thank you anyhow.”

Ben was trotting around the corner with a mile wide grin on his face, a little baggy in his hand and a look of self-satisfied triumph in his eyes. Hannibal met him with a deadpan stare.

“Got myself a deal here, he gave me a free case. The 800 bucks hurt, but you know. It even came with-”

“I beg your pardon?” Hannibal sputtered, staring at Ben as though he had grown a second head. Ben glanced up and quirked a brow.

“Well shit, if ya don’t want the case we can take it back.”

“You spent how much on that thing?”

“Gabriel, they ain’t cheap.”

“Benjamin Stephens, I was supposed to buy that.”

Ben flapped a dismissive hand and snorted. “Shit, it ain’t much. Ain’t broke, ya know.” He ignored Gabriel’s stunned stare. “Let’s go. I could use some Taco Bell, and I still gotta teach you how to use this thing and answer a text.” Without another word, Ben started on a brisk walk out of the store, carefully dismantling the packaging around the phone. Hannibal trailed after him, his face anything but pleased, and Ben couldn't keep the grin off his face.

“I’m not eating at... Taco Bell. It’s not even food,” Gabriel muttered, resuming his place at Ben’s side. Ben was reminded suddenly of a child who’d been denied his own way, and it only made him grin wider.

“Fine then, your highness. Starve.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Yes dear.”

 

Thirty minutes later, with Ben inhaling a Cantina Steak Burrito, Hannibal sat sipping at his water with the same look of sulking disapproval on his face. Ben finished his mouthful and sighed, leaning back in his chair to take a long pull of his Pepsi.

“Still pouting?”

“I’m not pouting.”

“Mhmmm.”

“I’m paying you back.”

“No, you ain’t. Forget it, alright? So I bought you something. You can return the favour and buy my lunch. How bout’ that, huh?”

Gabriel didn’t reply. If it was possible to angrily sip water, he was doing it.

Ben sighed, his hand reaching out to cover Gabriel’s from across the table. “I didn’t mean ta make you upset, or nothin’.”

Hannibal looked down at Ben’s hand, warm and strong on his, his eyes flicking up to meet Ben’s, watching as he swallowed hard. There was a moment’s hesitation, the slightest balk. What would the people sitting across from them think? The action had been innocent, merely instinct...

Hannibal slowly upturned his hand, slender and strong fingers twining through Ben’s. The motion was anything but instinct. Ben felt relief wash through him like cool water with Gabriel’s touch, something strange he couldn't quite identify following it. A little bit more than happiness.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” Hannibal spoke softly, his earlier disapproval quieted by the feeling of Ben’s hand in his. “It was... unexpected, is all.”

“Well... I’ll try not ta spring somethin’ like that on you again, okay?”

“Thank you.” The apology was followed by an easy, comfortable silence. Neither wanted to be the first to let go of the others hand.

“You’re still buyin’ me lunch.”

Hannibal laughed out loud. “Yes dear.”

 

“Okay, there ya go. Now ta send the text, you just click this little button over here.”

“This one?”

“No, that’s the delete- Welp. Now ya gotta start all over.”

Hannibal blew a sharp breath out through his nose and shook his head. “Remind me why I’m tolerating this.”

Ben grinned. Hours after lunch, after Gabriel had argued valiantly and won the right to pay for Ben’s alcohol, they had stopped outside a small cafe on one of Santa Monica’s sunlit streets, Ben at Gabriel’s side and instructing him painstakingly on how to send a text. Three attempts in and with none successfully sent, Hannibal’s patience was growing thin.

“Cause it’s 2014, Gabriel. And you ain’t 80. Quit whining.”

“I am not whining,” he grumbled, index finger hovering over the screen, slowly tapping each button as he peered over his glasses. Ben drummed his fingers across the table in front of them, the simple sentence taking Gabriel over a minute to type out.

“Got it?”

“I think so.”

Ben leaned over his companions shoulder to read the screen. “This is constipated pointless.”

Hannibal blinked and squinted at the screen. “No, no. Completely pointless. I typed in completely.”

Ben barked a laugh, his arm resting across the back of the seat just behind Hannibal’s shoulders. “Autocorrect. Now, you just hit the send button.”

“Infernal thing.” Hannibal grumbled softly, tapping the button Ben had instructed him to and watching the progress bar load. There was a little ding from Ben’s pocket, and the younger man grinned, clapping him on the back.

“Not so hard, eh? Ya did it!” Hannibal was pitched slightly forward with the force of Ben’s smack, the little grin on his face impossible to avoid.

“It’s still pointless,” he muttered softly.

Ben watched as the doctor tried to quell his smile, tucking the phone away into his pocket. Gabriel looked good when he smiled. Better than good. Twenty years younger and handsome as all hell. Ben’s hand was brushing Gabriel’s back, warm from the sun and solid. It was natural, something he didn’t think about, to lean forward and kiss the older man’s cheek. Gabriel was freshly shaven, his cheek smooth and smelling like the aftershave Ben had come to associate with him. Hot damn.

With the sudden presence of lips on his cheek, Hannibal nearly startled. When Ben withdrew, color creeping up over his face and his eyes dropping with the realization of what he’d done, there was a sudden shift within Hannibal’s chest. Reaching out, he took Ben’s hand in his and held it tightly, his voice teasing.

“So... you’re going to have to teach me all the slang they use nowadays, you realize that.”

Ben grinned wide, his hand giving Gabriel’s a squeeze. The wall that had been between them before and only present in public melted away as Ben leaned into Gabriel’s warm, steady side, chuckling softly.

“Oh, shit yeah. Don’t worry. Let’s work on maybe sendin’ a text in under a year, first?” Hannibal rolled his eyes, turning his head and allowing his lips to brush Ben’s hair.

“So funny.”

“Right? Shoulda been a comedian.”

“You would have been broke.”

“So kind.”

“I should have been a humanitarian.”

“Lol.”

“What?”

“Slang lesson number one.”

“It sounds like you’re gagging.”

Ben heaved a long sigh, shaking his head softly. “Laugh out loud, dumbass.”

Hannibal snorted. It sounds like a dry heave.

“No need to be rude. I’m learning. Can we go? My arm is falling asleep.”

“Still gotta get my amp.”

“Of course we do.”

 

 


	9. Nine.

“How much butter did you put on this?” Hannibal wrinkled his nose, eyeing the sheen on his palm that the handful of popcorn had left. Ben snorted and shifted to make himself more comfortable, his back settled against Gabriel’s chest as they reclined on the couch, the TV on and the bowl of popcorn in Ben’s hand.

“Not enough. Took me fuckin’ forever to find it, too. Your fridge is a goddamn labyrinth.” Ben snorted, stuffing another handful into his mouth. It had taken him a significant amount of time to plead with Gabriel and get him to agree and settle in to watch 3:10 To Yuma with him. Western’s had always been a favorite of his.

“It’s well organized and well stocked. I imagine it’s a bit of a difference from beer and old cheeseburgers.” Hannibal retorted quietly, gingerly picking up a single piece of the popcorn and popping it into his mouth to chew. Ben snorted, settling himself against the doctor’s chest once more. Hannibal grunted softly with the pressure, huffing in irritation.

“Comfortable yet?”

“You bet. Need a little more meat on those bones, Gabriel. You’re too skinny. Not enough cheeseburgers and beer.” Ben smirked softly, his head tucked just beneath the doctors chin. He was comfortable. More comfortable than he’d been in a long ass time, Gabriel’s chest better than any cushion. With Christian Bale’s raspy voice coming through the speakers, Ben’s thoughts turned away from the screen and to Gabriel. As they did often.

“Hey, Gabriel?” he asked, finishing the popcorn in his mouth and swallowing, breathing out softly.

“Hmmm?” The doctor’s soft reply hummed against Ben’s back. Grow a fuckin’ pair, man. Out with it.

“What are we?” The question caught Hannibal off guard, the gunfight on the screen momentarily forgotten.

“I... pardon? I don’t understand.”

“I asked what are we.”

“And I told you I don’t understand.”

Ben dug his elbow into Gabriel’s ribs as he rolled off the man, the irritated growl from the doctor ignored.

“Don’t dick around with me, Gabriel. It’s a straight fuckin’ question,” Ben snapped. There was somethin’... somethin’ about the aloofness in Gabriel’s face that just pissed him off. Why was it so fuckin’ hard for the man to tell when he was serious? “What. Are. We.”

Hannibal raised a single brow as Ben heaved himself up off the couch and his chest. More mood swings than a woman, for God’s sake.

“We are...” He began, shifting his eyes from Ben’s intense gaze back to the screen. “We are two men who are sitting in a living room, eating artery-clogging popcorn and watching overpaid actors in cowboy hats.” He tried for a grin. Ben’s face was flat.

“That’s your answer, huh?”

Hannibal swallowed, knowing his attempt at humour had been missed by a mile. “I suppose it is.”

Ben threw his hands up and stood. “You suppose. So goddamn casual about it.” He laughed bitterly. “I’m tryna be serious.”

Hannibal frowned, straightening on the couch before standing, barely taller than Ben but enough he could look down into his eyes. “I apologize. I thought that the better alternative than what first came to mind.” Gabriel spoke calmly, only further irking Ben.

“Spit it out, for fucks sake.”

“Language, please. I was going to say that I didn't have an answer for you.”

Ben’s heart gave a funny little jump in his chest. It hurt.

“I curse if I want to. Fuck.” He spat. It was childish, but this wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair for him to be so fucked up over this and for Gabriel to just be so...cool. Like this was nothing; like Ben was nothing. For fucks sake, he had sucked the fucker off, kissed him, damn near done everything but crawl in bed with him. This wasn’t his fuckin’ forte, that was for sure. Go your whole damn life chasin’ pussy and then this asshole comes along and everything goes to shit. Damn him.

“Benjamin, language. You’re being childish.” Hannibal tutted softly, watching as the blood rushed to colour the younger man’s skin. He really was beautiful to see when he was angry. Beautiful all the time, but it inspired the same awe a thunderstorm did when his temper arose. He had every right to be angry, but even if Ben was to unleash a fury to rival the titans, it would not bring an answer to Hannibal’s mind. He had none for him and he would not insult Ben’s intelligence with a lie. The younger man growled, fists balling at his sides before shaking his head abruptly and turning from the doctor, flapping a wave over his shoulder.

“Guess, I am. Night, then.”

Hannibal spoke before thinking.

“The door is the other way...” He offered, Ben nearly stumbling. The words hit him like a slap in the face before he took a deep inhale in and looked back at Gabriel.

“I’ve had a few, reckon I’ll crash here. You mind?” Gabriel slowly shook his head, watching Ben with wary eyes.

“No. Make yourself comfortable. I imagine I’ll be turning in rather soon, as well.”

Ben nodded and turned to climb the stairs, Hannibal’s adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.The guest bedroom was downstairs... Was this it? Being silently kicked to the couch? Clicking the television off, Hannibal stood for a long while thinking. How unfair. Why did he have to ask? I could have answered anything, anything but that...It wasn’t fair, and the more Dr. Lecter thought about it, the more stinging Ben’s rebuttal became. Hannibal had been honest with him, hadn’t lied, and now Ben was storming off like a disgruntled toddler. How honestly childish of him.

Turning from the entertainment system and huffing softly as he clicked the lights off after him, Hannibal jogged up the stairs quickly, frustration growing with each passing second. How dare Benjamin chide him for his honesty, something that...he had enough trouble with as it was. The door to his bedroom was closed. And what was the deal with that? It was his room. Did Ben have the authority to just waltz in and claim it as his? No, he did not. Pushing the door open and taking a wide step inside, Hannibal's mouth was already opening to snap at Ben before he took in the sight before him. There was no one in the room. The bed was neatly made, just as Hannibal had left in in the morning, the bathroom door was open, there was no one...

“OOF!” The doctor’s breath was knocked from his lungs as two muscular arms wound around his torso for the second time in the week, a heavy body slamming into him and carrying him forward and into the large king sized bed. It would have been a soft landing, had Hannibal’s hips not collided with the hard wooden frame, pain shooting through his lower body with a soft grunt. He was getting quite tired of being tackled.

Immediately and acting on instinct, Hannibal was scrambling for a foothold and wrestling with his assailant with a strength that surprised the man who had jumped him. Ben hadn’t expected Gabriel to be quite so strong, and certainly hadn’t expected the doctor to flip like a cat and practically throw Ben onto the bed.

“What...the hell…is wrong with you?” Hannibal panted, standing once more at the foot of the bed with Ben, blinking and slightly stunned on the bed, staring up at him. His anger came back as soon as the shock had worn off.

“You were being a prick.”

“And you felt the need to tackle me? What’s wrong with adult conversation?”

Ben snorted and attempted to shove himself into an upright sitting position before Gabriel was on him, wrists held down fast to the mattress below.

“Let me go,” he practically hissed. Gabriel’s eyes, shining maroon in the dying light, were intense and inches from Ben’s own. To his utter embarrassment, Ben’s cock began to thicken in his slacks, his mouth going dry.

“No.” Hannibal spoke coldly, adjusting his grip on Ben’s wrists. “Intolerable, insufferable, beautiful man...The last thing I will be doing tonight is letting you go.”

And that was that. All semblance of Ben’s self control melted into nothingness as he thrust his head upwards and his lips were crushed against Gabriel’s. There was nothing but him. Perhaps a little bit of anger. Enough that anything but bare skin was too much between he and his doctor, greedy hands tugging and tearing fabric, bodies moving as to not break the fierce connection he and Gabriel’s kiss granted. The doctor only pulled back to fumble with slacks, Ben taking the moments separation to yank at his straining jeans and kick his boxers aside at the same time. He didn't care about anything but Gabriel, anything but what they were doing. Fuck, why had he waited so long for this? Ben hardly had time to think before Gabriel lunged again, his warm lips, warmer tongue finding Ben’s throat and leaving kisses that shot his temperature up more than a few degrees. He groaned wantonly, fingers tangling in Gabriel’s hair to keep the man close. So good...

Hannibal’s mind was spinning, his greed for Ben’s skin seemingly unending. The man tasted perfect, all masculine, salt and the sea, a taste that was digging itself beneath his skin even now, to stay. Without thinking, Hannibal’s hips rutted hard up against Ben’s, bare skin on skin, and the shocks of pleasure the motion sent to his brain almost more than he could handle. Reaching down between them, Ben’s legs wound around Hannibal’s hips as the younger man rocked closer, the doctor wound his hand around Ben’s hardened length and leaned to growl in his ear.

“This... is... mine.”

Ben nearly came right then and there, eyes rolling back in his head and hips bucking hard into Gabriel’s hand. This was crazy, feverish in its intensity, and so hot Ben could feel his heartbeat pound throughout his entire body. Gabriel’s length was brushing his, his balls, his ass... and Ben knew what he wanted.

“Ga-Gabriel...” he gasped aloud, barely able to think with the pleasure skyrocketing through his brain. This was fuckin’ sad. Only a few minutes in and he was damn near ready to shoot like a schoolboy. But fuck, he couldn't stop.

“I need to get...” The doctor started, looking around the room groggily, cursing himself. He had... there no was no lubricant in this house, no protection, he had nothing...Ben’s nails digging hard into his shoulder blades snapped him out of it, the man’s deep blue eyes darkened with something that stole the breath from Hannibal's lungs.

“I don’t care. Please?”

Hannibal swallowed hard.

“I’ll hurt you...” he began quietly, silenced only by Ben’s demanding, almost desperate mouth.

“Please, Gabriel...” Hannibal looked down at him for a long moment before the lust that was raging through him made the decision for him. Inserting two fingers into his mouth to wet them, his hand dropped back to Ben’s cock, sliding lower, finding the crease of his ass and then his pucker. There was a moments hesitation before Ben shifted his hips forward, nudging against Gabriel’s wet fingers and groaning. Slowly, carefully, Hannibal slid the first finger into Ben, watching carefully as the man gasped aloud and arched, gritting his teeth.

“Jesus...Christ...” Another. Ben was nearly vibrating on the bed, sensations and the sweetest sting shooting through his veins like heroin and making him writhe on Gabriel’s fingers. The doctor was working him open, sliding and pushing like he had all the time in the world, curling his fingers within Ben to gently rub against his prostate and watch him nearly come undone. This was too good. Far too good, there was something unnatural about this, there had to be, oh fuckkkk...And then there was nothing, and Ben was left with a sudden horrible empty feeling that had his head lifting from the bed to peer up at Gabriel and whine. The doctor’s chest was heaving and his hands nearly shook as he removed his fingers from Ben, spitting onto his palm and working it over his cock until it was slick. Ben closed his eyes, head tipping back into the duvet as he felt Gabriel slick him up as best he could. This musta been the heaven the Bible didn’t want ya to know about...

“Ben...” Hannibal urged softly, his voice even though his hands nearly trembled with the pressure in his groin. He could hardly stand this, being this close to release. Ben’s hazy eyes opened, his voice thick.

“Hmmmmm...”

“I won’t... I’m not... going to last.” Hannibal breathed. It was shameful. Their first time, and he was trembling like a boy, ready to lose it with the slightest touch. Ben’s hand lifted to run over Gabriel’s chest, a half grin spreading over his lips.

“Doc... you had me ready to fall apart 20 minutes ago. Don’t ya dare apologize.” Hannibal looked at him for a long moment before his lips fell against his and the blunt head of his arousal pressed to Ben’s slicked opening. Both men heard breath catch in the other's throat as Hannibal’s hips gently began to push, something within Ben falling the second the doctor’s arousal breached his ring of muscle. Hannibal had been right. He wouldn’t last long.

It was barely a dozen slow, careful thrusts before Ben came, the hot sting of Gabriel’s cock, how it stretched him, nothing in comparison to the pleasure. With droplets of warm cum across his chest, Ben watched in wonder as Hannibal bent his head and let his tongue trail over the younger man’s skin, not missing a drop. He came not long after, his forehead dropping against Ben’s shoulder as he hissed a soft curse in a language Ben didn’t understand. When Gabriel pulled out, Ben felt like he had lost a part of himself.

They laid together for a long time afterwards, saying nothing. Gabriel wound his arms so tightly around Ben he couldn’t have moved if he wanted to, not that he did. Ben’s cheek was pressed to Gabriel’s chest, breathing slowly coming back down to normal, his eyes closed and a question poised on his tongue that he didn’t want to ask. It would ruin this, ruin this perfect soreness, perfect quiet.

“Gabriel?” Ben’s voice was soft in the dark, Gabriel’s fingers playing gently through his hair.

“Hmmm?”

“What... what are we?” He heard Gabriel’s hesitation and his heart fell. Here it was, the goodbye. It had been fun while it lasted.

“Let’s... let’s start with together. That’s what we are.” Hannibal smiled when he felt Ben grin against his chest.

“Yeah. I’m good with that.”

 

 


	10. Ten.

Three weeks later and Ben had still not adapted to Gabriel's early bird habits. The phone ringing at 10am simply pulled a groan from the younger mans lips as he rolled over in Gabriel's bed, trying in vain to call sleep back to him. He was sore, deliciously so, from the previous night. Satisfaction still flowed through his veins and gently urged him to relax once more.

"Ben?" Gabriel's voice rang from his office, nearing as he walked down the hall. Ben groaned, tugging the pillow over his head and waving his hand absently. "Ben, it's the Mirror. They said it's important." All at once Ben's eyes shot open, bounding up and out of bed so quickly it made Gabriel blink. Snatching his phone out of the doctor’s hand, Ben flashed him a grin with a husky thank you and strode out of the room, phone held to his ear. Throughout his still sleepy haze, his heart pounded at the prospect of the call. He had applied for the job offered at the Santa Monica Mirror halfway out of curiosity, just to see. Beach photojournalist would keep him busy, he thought. He hadn't expected them to call him back. So much so, he hadn't bothered to tell Gabriel.

"Hello?" Ben's voice was deep, still groggy with remnants of sleep. The voice on the other end sounded exactly as a smooth, radio voice would, cheery in the early morning but not enough to aggravate.

"Mr. Stephens?" The voice said, a little chuckle in the tone. "Did I wake you?"

"Oh, shi- 'course not! Been up for hours." Ben grinned and glanced towards the door of Gabriel's office. The doctor always respected Ben's privacy on the phone, but all the same, maybe he'd keep this under wraps until he knew he had the job for sure.

Downstairs, Hannibal poked around the kitchen, various foodstuffs on the counter, different breakfast dishes halfway assembled. He couldn't bring himself to focus on one long enough to finish. It wasn't like Ben to be so skittish with his phone calls. This had been going on for a while, here and there. In the beginning Dr. Lecter had brushed it off as nothing, ignored it completely. As time passed, however, something he refused to acknowledge as paranoia set in and he began to notice the behaviour more often. Ben would dodge comments about his career, about possibly re-entering the workforce. Not that Hannibal worried. If Ben wanted to spend his time lazing about his house, spending his money and his time, he was welcome to. He didn't mind at all.

Boyfriend. That word made Hannibal want to gag. It was so...casual. Something everyone said, a common word so overused it meant nothing. Whatever he and Ben were was still a mystery to him, some sort of mess thrown together to somewhat resemble romance. Boyfriend. Disgusting. The sound of bare feet coming down the stairs forced Hannibal to restrain himself and not turn around, focus on the granola he was preparing. Two arms sliding around his waist made him swallow, his body perfectly still as Ben's lips touched his ear. He could hear the smile in his voice.

"Guess what?" Hannibal sighed and dropped a cherry into the bowl.

"If you're going to say "chicken butt" again, you're making your own breakfast." Ben's laugh tugged at something within Hannibal's chest, his mouth set in a tight line to stop the threatening smile.

"I got myself a job, ass." Ben's grin was a mile wide when Gabriel turned around in his arms, sincere surprise written across the doctor’s face.

"Was that what the phone call was about?"

Ben nodded, squeezing the older man around the waist. "You betcha. Fella said he was damn impressed with the work I'd done, shit like that. Wants me ta start soon as possible."

"That's...well,...that's wonderful." Gabriel spoke slowly, nodding. "Care to tell me what said job is?"

Ben grinned, leaning forward to press his lips to his partners. "Beach photojournalist. Keeping up tabs with events on the beach, shit like that. I thought it'd help me, ya know. Get back into the swing of things." And get me off my lazy ass and out of your hair. Looking at Gabriel, Ben's smile faltered just slightly when he saw the lack of one on the doctor’s face. "Earth to Gabriel..."

"I heard you. Why didn't you tell me?" Hannibal asked quietly.

Ben cracked a grin and kissed the older man again. "Surprise?"

Shaking his head and unable to stop his smile any longer, Hannibal returned the short kiss. "Good. This will be wonderful for you." Overriding the brief flash of hurt at Ben's secrecy, Hannibal felt a happiness well up in his chest he could scarce contain. For Ben to re-enter the world that had scarred him so deeply was a step the doctor could do nothing but be immensely proud of. Quietly so, of course. An intense emotional display would do nothing but make Ben question his sanity, and he had never been the type of man to easily show what was on his mind, or his heart. "Let me treat you to breakfast?"

Ben glanced towards the kitchen that lay in shambles, at the bowl of granola laying on the counter. Pursing his lips briefly, he smiled innocently towards Huntington and gave his hand a little squeeze.

"How about you just fuck me, and we'll call it square?" Before Ben was finished the sentence, Gabriel was pulling him towards the stairs.

 

~

 

"I know this isn't the only radio station this thing gets." Ben glanced towards the sleek Jag's radio, his nose crinkled with the classical music that came from the speakers. Hannibal tapped his fingers along to the melody on the steering wheel with one hand, the other resting lightly on Ben's thigh. The music was doing little to quell his whirling mind. He should be feeling satisfied, incredibly so after he and Ben's last few hours. Instead, he had never felt more on edge. Ben had been excited about his new job, and rightly so. Why was he unable to be outwardly proud of him? Why was this so difficult?

"Mmmm," was all he said. The long highway following the beach in the early afternoon reflected mirages in the distance, sun glinting off the water to the duo's right. Ben glanced towards the beach with the lack of Gabriel's reply, thinking. He sure as shit wasn't the poetic type, and neither was Gabriel. But at least he didn't have any trouble sayin' what he needed ta say.

"Let's walk. Grab some lunch," Ben said suddenly, looking over at Gabriel. The driver nodded absentmindedly, before blinking and looking over at his partner.

"You just ate an hour ago."

"I got a quick metabolism, old man. C'mon." Hannibal snorted at Ben's teasing, flicking on his turn signal and pulling into one of the many seaside parking lots and killing the engine. When they got out, Ben cocked a brow at the sound of mumbling from Gabriel's side, chuckling low to himself as he shut the door. Opening his mouth to say something, he frowned when he saw Huntington had already begun to walk down to the beach, not waiting for him. Trotting down the little incline after him, Ben caught up and bumped him purposefully with his shoulder.

"Tryin' ta ditch me, or what?" He joked, earning nothing but a snort from the older man. "Hey." Ben nudged him again as they walked, the sand reflecting the sun's warmth beneath their feet. Ben kicked off his shoes as Gabriel stopped walking, a little exasperated sigh leaving him.  

"What, Benjamin," he asked tolerantly. Ben frowned at his tone of voice, a tired adult to a nagging child.

"What's wrong? And dontcha say nothin', cause you're an open goddamn book. You should be happier'n a pig in shit. You just ate, fucked, had yourself a drink, life's good. So tell me what's buggin' you."

Hannibal was unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes at Ben's simple rendition of the good life, thought the truth of the statement nagged in the back of his mind. Nothing was wrong. Things were going right, so very right, for the first time in too long. There was no reason for him to be so bitter. The inability to speak the thoughts rampant in his head pricked him into annoyance, grumbling as he began to walk again.

"I am happy." Dr. Lecter snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. Ben stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head and laughing.

"Alright, I'll quit pushin'. At least walk with me?"

"I am walking with you," Huntington muttered.

Ben walked quickly to step in front of the doctor, causing him to stop short. Ben looked at him evenly. "You don't have to if ya don't want to. But...I'd like ya to."

Gabriel straightened his shoulders and nodded stiffly, stepping around Ben. The sandy-haired man's heart fell before the doctor called over his shoulder. "I tend to walk quickly, so you might want to pick up the pace." Turning swiftly and trotting to catch up with him, Ben jogged across the sand back to Gabriel's side and fell into the doctor’s stride. Hanging loosely by his hip, Gabriel's hand hung relaxed and inviting, yet Ben restrained himself. In public... It was better than it had been, but neither of the men was ready to jump all the way in just yet. For Christ's sake, a couple months ago he'd been chasing pussy, and here he was on some dude's dick. Things were still a little unsteady, relationship-wise.

Their relationship...Ben quelled the smile that word brought about. He and Gabriel didn't make any fuckin' sense...but he was okay with that. "Together...let's start with that." It was good enough for him. Hell, Gabriel was good enough for him. He woulda taken friends with benefits if it had of been all the doctor was willing to offer. Whatever they were, dating, fuckbuddies, lovers...Ben didn't particularly care. Long as they were something that wasn't strangers.

"Tell me something," Ben finally said to ease out of the silence the men had been walking in. Not close enough to each other to be a couple, not far enough to be strangers. Gabriel wasn't the talking type. He could be, on the nights he felt like it... Nights he and Ben were home alone and out of anyone's eye. Sometimes. Days like today, getting a sentence out of his doctor was like pulling teeth. Gabriel shrugged a shoulder, eyes downcast and looking into the sand.

"I should have worn shorts." He quipped simply, dropping a gaze to the loose slacks he had grabbed before leaving the house. Ben grinned.

"You look good in those." He nodded, Gabriel's mouth moving once as he chewed over a reply, before he muttered a thank you. Ben could have been angry. Just this morning he'd gotten a job that had been more than a huge step for him. He'd had fantastic sex with the man he now walked beside, eaten a breakfast fit for a king, and Gabriel now acted like this morning hadn't happened. He could have been pissed right off, but he wasn't. For some odd reason, all he felt was patience.

The beach wasn't yet crowded in the early afternoon, spots of people here and there beginning to show up as the temperature climbed. Sunbathers and the odd surfer trotted along the sand, hardly a glance spared towards the pair of men walking side by side. A small crowd of girls, tiny bikini's covering slim bodies, chatted loudly together and laughed in the obnoxious way girls did. Looks were shot in Hannibal and Ben's direction, whispers exchanged and laughter loud. A whistle, low enough it could have come from anywhere and couldn't be pinned on the girls, sounded through the air.

Ben pursed his lips at the sight of the girls, watching Gabriel's face. There was nothing. No reaction, no disgust or weary distaste. Blank. The decision made in under a second, Ben's hand reached out to grasp Gabriel's and pull him to a stop. Before the doctor’s exclamations of surprise could leave his mouth, Ben's lips had found it and hushed them before they could begin. The kiss was slow, not hurried in the slightest and gentle. It wasn't too passionate, nor too light, the kiss of someone who had all the time in the world to enjoy it. When the younger man pulled back and ended it, the look of shock on Huntington's face almost made him laugh out loud.

Words did not come to Hannibal immediately. He had seen the women, felt their gazes upon he and Ben and brushed aside the distaste that had bubbled up. It didn't matter. It didn't- Ben's hand in his, wrenching him to a stop and the sudden appearance of his mouth shocked any thought of the audience out of his brain for a brief moment. What was he doing? Everyone could see them, everyone was free to judge. But his lips sent relief like cool water through his veins, the taste like elixir...

"Benjamin, we- Everyone just-"

"Saw us? Yeah. I got that." Ben said matter-of-factly. Hannibal stared at him for a long moment, his hand still tightly held in Ben's. The laughter had stopped from the group of girls. Dr. Lecter took a shaky breath in before his arms snaked around Ben's middle and constricted, hugging the younger man tightly to his chest, lips brushing his ear.

"I am so proud of you for getting that job. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. This morning was perfect, and I apologize for being so bloody...pigheaded, that it took me this long to say it. I'm sorry."

Ben took a moment to recover the breath that had been knocked from his lungs with the force of Gabriel's hug, grinning like a lottery winner with the looks from the girls. Yeah, g'head and stare. He's mine.

"Hey, that's okay. I know ya...ain't good with the feelin's shit. That's okay. I don't mind."

"I should be good at it," Gabriel mumbled into his nape. "I talk about them for a living." Ben laughed out loud and wound his arms around Huntington in return, kissing the older man's temple.

"Not your own. You're good enough, okay?" The sentence came without summoning, sudden enough it almost took Ben by surprise, more so when Gabriel lifted his head and looked at him and Ben swallowed.  "You're good enough for me. Pigheaded an' all. Okay?"

The little laugh of maybe disbelief, maybe relief, came forth from Hannibal in a quiet sound. Without thinking, his lips found Ben's again, hands sliding down the younger man's back to covers his ass, voice low into his mouth.

"Let them stare. I'm not, Benjamin. I'm really not. But you help me to believe that I have a chance to be." He spoke softly, earning a grin and another soft kiss from his...boyfriend. Yes, boyfriend would fit Benjamin. At least for now. How would he feel about lover, he wondered idly...

Ben wanted to groan with the feeling of Gabriel's wide, strong hands sliding into his back pockets to possessively cover his ass. That man, when his voice hit that timbre...Jesus Christ. Ben's knees felt like liquid and blood rushed from his brain. Frowning only slightly at the sadness in Gabriel's words, the remainder of the statement brought a lightness into his chest that shone through in his smile.

"Guess I'll just have ta keep remindin' you until you start believin' me, huh?" Ben grinned and nudged his hips against the doctor, the now-familiar flash that came across the maroon sending a little shudder down his spine. Gabriel grinned and stepped back, and Ben's heart gave a strange, funny little thump when the older man laced his fingers with his and gently squeezed. Goddamn, that man had some sorta magic shit going on with him. Nobody should hafta get this hard with just a smile and a glance like that. Wasn't fuckin' fair.

"If it makes you happy to keep reminding me... Then I'll happily be reminded. Now." Hannibal pulled at Ben's hand and began to walk again, past the group of girls that had begun to whisper once more. Keeping close to his partner and with a teasing glint in his eye, Hannibal asked, "What were you saying earlier about finding something to eat...?"

 

 


	11. Eleven.

Seated at his fine desk and alone in his office, the only company Hannibal Lecter had was his own mind. Thoughts that he could beckon at a moments notice flicked within his brain like skittish birds, most of Ben, the rest of a more pressing issue. Seven months. Two-hundred and thirteen days, five-thousand, one hundred and thirteen hours he had lied to Benjamin. Lied through his teeth, a smile; lies whispered laying in the dark and on a sunny beach. In the beginning, as in the beginning of an addict’s decent, he saw no harm in his lies. Benjamin was happy, as was he. Time slowly began to change that, to erode away the false sense of security Hannibal had allow himself to come to believe. The lies became poison on his tongue, acid that crept through his veins and into his brain, as Benjamin lay sleeping at his side. The lies had begun to eat him alive.

Benjamin had chosen to stay with a man that was not Hannibal Lecter. Ben had held, kissed, dined with a man that was not the doctor, surrendered himself and made love to someone that was nothing more than a facade. Ben slept at Gabriel Huntington’s side, ate at his table and held his hand. It was more than plausible, Hannibal mused, that Benjamin had not even noticed the striking similarities shared between Huntington and Lecter. Rubbing his temples, Hannibal leaned forward onto his desk and blew out a small breath, willing his mind to quiet itself. This brooding wouldn't do. A little lie, one that served no other purpose than to protect the man he had grown so very fond of, should not be bothering him so.

Pushing back from his desk and unable to sit still any longer, Hannibal began to pace. Something to take his mind off of this...that was what he needed. Something that would allow his mind to consume something else, something he craved before he had learned to crave another. Pain...perhaps it could solve his problem. His waiting list had been quite long for some time, people he had put off for more time with Ben. A list he had paid no mind to, until now. Another patient, someone riddled with problems and lamentations, something Hannibal could poke and prod and tease, perhaps that would wipe the slate of his mind clear and allow him to once again focus amid the haze that was Benjamin Stephens.

His mind made up, Dr. Lecter nodded once to himself, no one else in the room. The sharp ringing of the mobile phone brought a welcome distraction, his strides long and hurried as he picked up the phone and brought it to his ear.

“Huntington residence.” A low laugh on the other end.

“Jesus, Doc. How many other people got yer number? It’s me.” Hannibal relaxed slightly, a little smile pulling at his mouth.

“You never know. How are you? Are you alright?” Ben laughed across the line, the sound further easing the doctor.

“Perfectly fine. My truck... not so much. Fuel pump blew.” Hannibal nodded, already walking towards the door.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. There’s a mechanic not far from here, I’ll call him afterwards and arrange an appointment.”

“Gabriel...I know how ta fix a car. You ain’t calling a mechanic.” A bemused snort raised one of Hannibal’s brows as he exited the house, unlocking the car. “I’ll get a buddy ta pick the ol’ girl up later. See you soon, okay? Drive safe.”

“I always do. Won’t be a tick.” Hannibal rolled his eyes as he hung up. Benjamin, of all men, telling him to drive safely...

 

~

 

Leaning against the hood of the beat-up pickup, Ben made quite the picture waiting in the parking lot of the Mirror headquarters. Sox t-shirt battered and faded, holes here and there, tanned skin and tousled hair drew more than a few looks from passers by, the sleek black Jag pulling alongside him and buzzing the window down.

“How much?” The familiar voice teased from the drivers seat, Ben grinning wide as he leaned to look inside.

“Hell, mister, I’d fuck you for free.”

Gabriel laughed and waited as Ben climbed in the passenger seat, the short hello kiss shared between the two something that had become as comfortable as holding hands. Pulling out of the parking lot, Ben’s hand rested lightly above Gabriel’s knee, the sun warm as it streamed through the windows.

“Fuel pump, you said?” Gabriel quipped as they drove, a little grin pulling at Ben’s mouth. The doctor didn’t know shit all about cars, but his efforts to make Ben believe otherwise never stopped. He’d spent a good day in the garage tinkering with the Jag’s engine after it had begun to make an odd sound, covered in grease and shirt damp with sweat, strings of curses in what Ben guessed was Italian never ceasing from his lips. Hotter than hell to watch, but he had ta give the poor bugger points for trying. Storming into the house later that evening, face thunderous and the curses still coming, Gabriel had sulked on the couch until Ben had dragged him back to the garage. A lot of “Mhmmm, ahhhh” and “See, that’s what I thought it was.” Cute as fuck.

“Yep, that’s what I’m thinkin’. Wanna help me fix it?” Ben turned his head and waited for Gabriel’s reply, laughing out loud at the doctor’s mutter.

“I think I’ll leave the filthy manual labour to you. You’re much more comfortable getting covered in sweat than I am.”

“Well, ya didn’t complain about gettin’ all sweaty the other night...” Ben remarked casually.

“You know as well as I do that that’s...different,” Hannibal mumbled, heat flushing his skin at the thought. Ben was right, and he would rather drop dead than admit it.

“Speakin’ a fuel, on the other hand...you’re damn near empty.” Ben pointed to the gage on the dash, Gabriel’s gaze dropping to where he gestured.

“Perfect timing, at least,” the doctor replied, flicking his turn signal on and pulling into the Shell station that had appeared on their right.

“I’ll grab myself a coffee, too. Want anything?” Ben asked as they got out of the car, Hannibal waving his hand and digging into his pocket for his wallet.

“I’ll get it. You can fill up, mister mechanic.” Ben laughed, earning a grin from Hannibal as he walked into the station. Wrinkling his nose at the scent of cheap candy and the usual type of people who meandered about gas stations, he located the coffee machine relatively quickly and waited in line for his turn. One day soon, he needed to wean Ben off of this awful substance. Hand-ground he could tolerate, but this cheap, low quality gas station brand...it made his stomach turn.

The chime of the door sounded just as Hannibal reached the counter to pay, a smile over his shoulder at Benjamin as he set the coffee on the counter. The clerk, a young girl with hair so many times dyed it was nearly white, eyes lined with severe black eyeliner, popped her gum and watched Ben browse as she counted Dr. Lecter’s cash.

“Didja get sugar, too?” Ben called his way.

“Yes, I did.” Hannibal affirmed, waiting as the receipt came out of the machine. The clerk grinned, the pale pink bubble of gum popping once more and sending disgust crawling down his spine. Young people, these days. From a first glance, you would think half of them couldn't read.

“Friend of yours sure is something to see, mister. Send him around more often,” she said, her voice a drawl and her gaze more than obviously in Ben’s direction. Something in Hannibal's chest gave a growl, a beast long sleeping and sated that all at once came awake. His smile was a venomous one, his voice louder than it needed to be.

“Actually, that’s my boyfriend. But I’ll be certain to pass the compliment along.” His voice dripping with acid, he turned on his heel and walked past the shocked speechless Benjamin, leaving the clerk blushing and flustered, not sparing Ben a glance as he spoke.

“Will you be accompanying me, or are you going to walk?” It took a moment for words to come into Ben’s mouth, almost running to catch the door as Gabriel made his way back to the car, unlocking it and walking around.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’...” Ben said, plopping into the passenger’s seat and staring at the driver as they pulled away. He swore he heard something that sounded like “Bitch” come from Gabriel’s side, but brushed it away as a figment of his imagination.

“So... thanks for the coffee.” Ben offered, reaching slowly towards the coffee Gabriel had placed in the cupholder, as though reaching towards a tiger. Both of Gabriel’s hands wrapped tightly around the wheel, knuckles almost white with effort. Ben had to bite the inside of his lip hard enough to nearly draw blood in order to stop his smile.

“You’re welcome,” Hannibal said through his teeth, his blood still hot and surging in his veins. As if she couldn't tell he and Ben were together. Bullshit. What did he have to do, write his name on the man’s shoulder? Get him a collar? He shouldn’t have snapped, rationality repeated in his mind. It was unprofessional and rude, and he didn’t regret it for one fucking second. Next time they walked into a business run by hormone-crazed and desperate women, he’d have to keep Ben on a leash. Sluts these days...

“Was someone...just a tiny bit...” Ben’s eyes stayed on his coffee as he fought to keep the grin out of his voice. “Jeal-”

“I was not jealous.” Gabriel snapped, the speedometer climbing for the briefest of moments before it came back down. Ben grinned into his cup as he took a sip.

“Okay.”

“I wasn’t jealous. Why would I be? I’m secure enough in my masculinity and in you that I don’t need to worry about lower class, reeking sluts who think they’re sex on legs and don’t realize that you can spot the STD’s a mile away.” Huntington’s voice got louder and the car went faster as he kept talking. Ben knew better than to speak, but his mouth was beginning hurt from trying so hard to keep his face serious. “Who the hell else walks into a store together like that? Please. I’m not an idiot. My suit screams gay. You’re too attractive to be single and straight. So don’t tell me for a second she thought you were.”

The sound of the snort from the passenger side made Hannibal’s head snap sideways, Ben holding his mouth and doubling forward, his shoulders heaving.

“This really isn’t funny,” Gabriel growled as Ben howled with laughter, the coffee he had snorted burning his throat, stomach hurting as he kept going.

“Your...just your suit?” He could barely make it through the sentence before going off again, Hannibal’s shoulder relaxing slightly as he fought to stay angry at something he shouldn't be angry at. Ben’s laughter had a funny way of being infectious, and it didn’t take long for his frown to fade against his will, a smile slowly replacing it. It took less than a minute before he was laughing, too.

“Well, I mean...Benjamin. You can’t be a man and dress nicely in the world we live in and have people think you’re straight. Sadly.”

Ben wiped his eyes to clear them of tears, his laughter slowing to allow him to speak. “Jesus Murphy, that was funny. Ever thought of being a comedian?”

“Wouldn't that work out splendidly. For the whole five minutes of the year I’m funny, the place would be packed.”

The rest of the drive went much the same, teasing and jokes traded between the two before they pulled into the drive and killed the engine, Ben at Hannibal’s side in record time and arm around his waist. More than few kisses were traded before the time the duo got in the door, longer once they did.

Ben spoke softly against Hannibal’s mouth, hands resting lightly on his doctor’s sides. “So, before we go any further...gonna tell me why you been so broody lately? I do notice some things, ya know.”

He grinned to lighten the impact of the words, but they didn’t stop Hannibal from stiffening against him. All at once the thoughts that had swarmed him before Ben had called came back, the acid beginning to burn in his lungs and the unease settling once more. He cleared his throat and stepped back, shrugging his coat off his shoulders and earning a slightly confused look from Ben.

“I’ve been thinking, is all.”

Ben folded his arms over his chest and moved to block Hannibal’s exit.

“Not really the words I wanna hear, lover.” His voice was serious, any previous mirth gone. Hannibal sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Don’t be an idiot. Nothing like that. I’ve...I’ve been thinking about you reentering the workforce, contemplating what I’ve been doing lately...which is really not much.”

“Fattening me up, that's for sure. Plannin’ on eatin’ me?” Ben cracked with a grin, Dr. Lecter’s blood suddenly running cold, his grin soon fading as the colour fled the doctor’s face.

“Hey, hey. Just teasin’...”

“I know.” Dr. Lecter forced a weak smile, blowing out a quick breath. “I’m going to start taking patients again. My waiting list has grown extremely long, complaints are beginning to come forth...I need to be busy again.” He said in a rush, silence from Ben’s end. “Say something.”

“Shit, what? Were you expectin’ me ta be mad?” Ben laughed, Hannibal’s shoulder sagging with relief as he stepped forward to hug the other man tight.

“If I’m to be honest, yes. A little bit,” he mumbled into Ben’s ear, squeezing him close. Ben kept the smile on his face and hoped Gabriel couldn't hear the pounding of his heart, kissing the older man’s neck gently.

“Crazy man. Why don’t you go rustle up some dinner. I gotta call and get that truck towed.” He gave Gabriel’s backside a little pat, smiling and returning his kiss with vigour. When Gabriel left for the kitchen and Ben stood in the foyer alone, he took a deep breath to steady himself. So what, another patient. He had been a patient once, too. It was Huntington’s job, and one he was damn good at. He shouldn't be jealous. Long as it wasn’t some pretty pair a’ tits or another, hotter young man...he’d be fine. There was nothing to worry about. Of course...that didn't stop the nerves from knotting up his belly.

 

 


	12. Twelve.

“So when’s this new broad showing up, anyhow?” Ben kept his voice casual as he flipped through the channels of the TV, eyes flicking to the doctor for the briefest of moments. Gabriel sighed, straightening his tie and glancing over himself once in the mirror to assure that everything was in place.

“Benjamin, manners please. You’re not five.”

“Didn’t answer my question.”

“In twenty minutes. Better?”

“Yup.” Heaving himself off the couch, Ben stretched with a heavy exhale and rubbed the back of his neck, matching gazes with Huntington across the room. Gabriel sighed gently, smoothing the front of his suit jacket and giving Ben a look.

“I do wish you would stop being so passive-aggressive with your intense dislike of someone you’ve never even met.”

“You can dislike somebody you never met before. Never met Tony Romo in my life. Hate his ass.”

Opening his mouth to retort, Hannibal quirked a brow at the sound of the doorbell. Ben, as if on cue, folded his arms over his chest.

“Fast twenty minutes,” he grumbled. Turning on his heel and walking towards the door, Hannibal was already forming the polite rebuttal to whomever had decided to come knocking at such an inopportune moment. Surely it couldn't be his patient. Some liked to be early, but this was ridic-

“Dooooctor. Oh, how marvelous it is to finally meet you in the flesh. My goodness, how I have dreamed of this.” As two thin, bony hands clasped his cheeks, Hannibal swore he could hear the click of Ben’s jaw hitting the floor as the incredibly over-perfumed woman before him smacked a kiss on either side of his face before letting him go, shoving him aside and waltzing into the house like she had done so a thousand times before.

“Miss...Miss Flaherty. Please come in.” Blinking aside his surprise and subtly wiping the smears of lipstick from his face, Hannibal stepped after his patient and smiled politely. “You’re early.”

“Oh, I know I am. You don’t mind, do you?” Batting long, fake lashes towards him, the aging woman turned and continued examining the house. Eyes sweeping the fine architecture, they landed on the solemn sight of Benjamin Stephens, standing solid as a linebacker and with a facial expression that resembled death.

“Why hello there.” Honeyed tones seemed to ooze from Ms. Flaherty’s lips, and Ben answered with a grunt. She looked like a fuckin’ mannequin that had walked outta some dead guy’s attic, makeup caked onto her face and thinning hair done, the stench of her perfume hitting him like a truck. Skank.

“Well then.” Clearing his throat, Gabriel shot a look towards Benjamin before offering his arm to Flaherty. “May I take your coat, madam?”

“Oh my goodness, such a gentleman. Dying breed, these days.” She smiled, handing the faux fur coat to Huntington and flipping her hair. “And please, call me Irene.”

Ben wanted to fucking puke. She might as well have just stripped fuckin’ naked and physically thrown herself at Gabriel. Clearing his throat, he gestured over his shoulder with his thumb and began to back out of the room.

“Gabriel? I’ll...be watchin’ TV. You kids have fun.” Nodding in response to Ben’s hasty retreat, Hannibal sighed and painted a smile back onto his face as Irene turned to him.

“No, no. It’s Miss Flaherty, I insist. Shall we get started?” Once they had seated themselves in Hannibal’s study, his glasses on and notepad in hand, the waterworks soon began.

“Oh, of course. Oh doctor, I’ve just been so distraught. After everything that’s happened, and I’ve just been holding myself together the best that I could...” Pausing and looking up at the ceiling, Flaherty’s eyes welled up with tears as she waved her hand in front of her face, breathing deeply.

With a tolerant sigh, Hannibal reached into his suit pocket for a handkerchief and handed it to her, waiting as she dabbed at her eyes. “Please, go on.”

“After Henry’s suicide, doctor...I just don’t know what to do with myself anymore!” She wailed, blowing into the handkerchief and her slim shoulders shaking with sobs.

“That’s a perfectly normal reaction, Miss Flaherty. Becoming overwhelmed and confused after a loved one leaves us is natural. Had you contacted a grief counselor before seeing me?” Looking up with her brow furrowed, Irene cocked her head to the side and sniffled once more into the cloth, her voice shaky.

“A...a grief counselor?”

Hannibal nodded his assent. “Yes. I find that they are extremely helpful-”

“Why would I need a grief counselor, doctor?” The woman stated bluntly. Hannibal squinted slightly, his head tipping to the side.

“Madam, your husband very recently passed away...”

“Oh, I couldn't care less about him. Doctor, I just...with all this new money, no one will leave me be!” She cried again, once more returning to the handkerchief. As she did so, the sound of the door opening brought both doctor and patient’s heads up, the whistling form of Benjamin sauntering in through the door attracting two sets of stares.

“Sorry, folks. Forgot my phone in here,” Ben said with a grin. Hannibal pursed his lips while Flaherty glared, Ben rummaging around on one of the shelves before holding up his prize.

“Aha! Gotcha. Slippery little fuck, ain't it?” Ben slid the phone into his pocket before walking over to where Gabriel sat, winking towards the doctor.

“Hope you ain’t too tired when you’re finished here, big boy. You’re gonna own this ass later.” Planting a smack on his own backside, Ben’s grin was a mile wide in the face of Gabriel’s death glare.

“Excuse me. Could you ask him to leave until our business is finished here?” Piping up suddenly, Irene Flaherty’s face was splotchy red, little fists balled around the handkerchief. “I don’t think Dr. Huntington appreciates such...dare I say homosexual  advances.”

Gabriel froze suddenly, turning from Benjamin to level his gaze towards the woman across from them. Clearing his throat, his face an expression of absolute calm, he slowly rose from his seat and placed his palm gently to cover the back pocket of Ben’s jeans, his voice soft.

“Miss. Flaherty... our business is finished now. The “advances” displayed by my partner here are ones, contrary to your belief, that I appreciate and enjoy very much.” Watching Flaherty’s mouth form an “o”, Hannibal continued. “As you see...I myself am a ‘homosexual.’” Giving Ben’s backside an affectionate pat, Hannibal withdrew his hand before folding his arms across his chest and smiling towards the stunned-speechless woman. “You can consider all our further appointments cancelled and I trust that you can show yourself to the door. Good day.”   

Waiting until Flaherty’s curses and threats of a lawsuit had subsided, the door had slammed shut and the car had roared out of the driveway, Ben turned to the doctor with a shit-eating grin.

“Gabriel Huntington, you are so getting laid-”

Whirling on the younger man, Gabriel’s index finger stuck into Ben’s chest, his voice fiery and hissed.

“And you. I do not care that you didn’t like her. I didn’t care for her either. That gives you no right to behave so childishly, and to outright embarrass me during one of my appointments. I’m incredibly disappointed.” Turning once more and marching out of the room, Gabriel did not turn around when Ben hurried after him.

“Hey, hey now...C’mon, Gabriel. I was just pissin’ around.” With no reply, Ben walked quickly along at Gabriel’s side and tried in vain to capture his attention. “She was a bitch. You of all guys coulda seen that the second she walked in.”

Gabriel stopped so suddenly Ben almost tripped to stop with him.

“And you’re an ass, yet I still love you. I’m a prick, and you still go to bed with me every night. She was my patient, not a friend or even acquaintance. I do not sit down with patients to judge their mannerisms.” His voice was cold as he spoke, gaze even with Ben’s before his march out of the study continued.

“Hey. Quit walkin’ away from me, Gabriel. Tryna talk to ya, here.”

“I don’t believe we have anything left to talk about, Benjamin.” Hannibal spoke through his teeth, quickening his pace to outdistance Ben. How dare he be so rude, so inconsiderate right in front of that woman. He more than likely would have ended up killing her anyway, but all the same...

“So says you.” The words came out in a growl as Ben’s strong fingers wrapped themselves around Hannibal’s forearm to spin him around, chest to chest and Ben’s lips crashing into Hannibal’s. The kiss was an angry one, hot and frustrated. Wedging his hands up between the two of them, Hannibal shoved back at Ben’s chest and wiped his mouth, hissing.

“Yes, so says me. Now get out. I have things to do.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ start tellin’ me what to do, old man...” Ben grunted when Gabriel was suddenly pressed close again, the doctor’s hand to his groin and gently grasping Ben’s already stirring arousal.

“Do not. Forget. Who this belongs to. Mind your tongue, Benja-” Ben lunged, hands grabbing at Gabriel’s ass and tongue greedily looking for the others. Caught off balance by the force of the assault, Gabriel stumbled backwards and allowed Ben’s momentum to carry them backwards and onto the couch. Anger was still present, no longer in empty threats and shoves, but in the grasping of hands and the feral grinding of bodies, the desperation of the kiss.

“Must we always...” Hannibal muttered between kisses, groaning aloud as Ben’s teeth closed and tugged at his lower lip. “Start lovemaking like we hate each other?”

“Where’s the fun in gentle?” Ben rumbled, nimble fingers searching for Gabriel’s fly and swiftly undoing the doctor’s pants.

“I could show you, if you would permit me...” Hannibal spoke huskily, forcing his hands to slow in their ravenous assault on Ben’s body, tugging at his shirt until the sandy-haired man obliged and raised his arms for him to pull it off. Beginning to unbutton his own shirt, Dr. Lecter paused when Ben shook his head, his voice soft.

“Leave it on. Please?”

“Tell me you’re sorry and I will.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“Gabriel...”

“We could stop.”

“I’m sorry for being a dick. And embarrassing you.”

“Thank you.”

“Welcome.” Ben immediately noticed the difference in Gabriel’s touch after the apology. When the doctor’s long, elegant fingers slid into his shorts and found his aching cock, Ben shivered with the exquisite care he showed. Freeing Gabriel’s dick from the confines of his boxers, Ben stroked it for a length of time that seemed like eons to the doctor. With the younger man seated in his lap, breathing growing faster and beginning to sound in the living room, motions became jerky and hastened. Rearranging clothing and wetting fingers, gasps melted into groans with the tender preparation Gabriel showed, the groans dissolving into broken moans from both men as Ben lowered himself onto Gabriel, sensation shocking the two of them like electricity.

“Fucking Christ, man...” Ben gasped, his head bowing to watch Gabriel’s hand lazily travel the length of his cock, bobbing and brushing the doctors shirt-clad stomach.

“No, you’re fucking Gabriel. But at times you do make me feel like a God...” Hannibal purred as Ben slowly rolled his hips, luxuriating in the warm waves of pleasure lapping at him. All at once Hannibal was nearly overcome with the need to hear his name in Ben’s deep baritone, his real name. To hear the younger man call out who owned him as he shuddered his release...it would be a pleasure Hannibal doubted could ever be repeated twice.

Ben’s raspy laugh did funny things to the way he and Gabriel were connected, forcing him to speed up to sate the lust burning in his belly. There was something about this...something about how Gabriel filled him, about how Gabriel’s hand stroked him, about the way the doctor’s eyes watched him, his scent, fuck, everything about Gabriel did something to him he didn’t understand and didn’t care to. It was good, so fucking good. He felt warm, content, more at home than he’d ever felt in his life. Rocking faster, unable to stop himself, the words bubbled up from somewhere in Ben he had long locked up, spilled forth like the release that was fast approaching.

“I love you.” He blurted, the sound of Gabriel sliding in, out, in and out of his ass a terribly erotic soundtrack to a confession that dropped like a bomb.

Hannibal was in heaven. The tightness of Ben squeezing him was fast pushing him towards the usual earth-shattering climax, the younger man’s swollen cock in his hand hot as ember and smooth as velvet. The words that came from Ben’s lips did not immediately register, so caught up in physical pleasure was he. Their meaning struck his body before it struck his brain, his back arching and a cry torn from his lips as ecstasy found him and left him wracked with the throes of orgasm. Ben came a moment later, hot seed coating Hannibal's hand and shirt, his body bucking as both men revelled in the release of the other, both weak as it slowly subsided and left them panting and breathless.

“B-...Ben.” Hannibal gasped when his lungs would allow enough air in for him to speak, hands fumbling to hold the younger man’s chin up and level their stares.

“Hmmmm?” Was all Ben could muster.

“I love you.” His breath seemed to come easier now, body compliant to his mind’s demands. “I have never done this before. I never thought I would. I love you blindly, and sometimes quietly...but I love you.”

Ben didn’t say anything for a long minute.

“Fuck you, Shakespeare. Men ain’t supposed ta cry.”

 

 


	13. Thirteen.

“Vivaldi or Bach, sir?”

“Er...” Ben looked at the two pieces of parchment before him as though they were written in another language, which they were. He wracked his brain to try and remember the musician Gabriel had admired aloud, his hand waving around in the air before he pointed to the piece in the dealer’s right hand.

“Let’s go with Bach. Sounds about right.”

The well-groomed man behind the counter smiled and turned his back while packaging Ben’s choice, while he dug for his wallet and tried to keep his breathing steady with the price. It had taken for-fucking-ever to track down the shit Gabriel was into, old music written by dudes with psycho hair. And holy shit was it expensive. Handing over the credit card and wincing when the clerk rang it through, Ben thanked him for his time before turning and cradling the carefully packaged parchment in his arms as though it was plated gold.

Might as well have been.

And it was worth every penny. Huntington was gonna light up like a Christmas tree when he saw what Ben had got him, scold him about the money spent, and probably fuck him into next week. Ben’s dick gave a twitch at the thought, a smug grin of self-satisfaction as he pulled into traffic. He’d flip over backwards to see the doctor smile, his eyes like up like a kid in a candy store’s. Gabriel loved him. It gave him goosebumps even now, weeks later, to think about it. Couldn't just say it like Ben had, no. Blurted it out with his cock up his ass. No, Gabriel had to be Gabriel and go Shakespearean, sittin’ there with Ben on his dick and not five minutes after blowing a load. Wasn’t fair.

And it wasn’t just words, either. Ben had been practically drowning in the shit Gabriel had been buying him, every time he turned around something paid for, his truck fixed, the list went on... Ben had laid down the law when the repairs had stopped. Gabriel had been threatened with a helluva lot less affection if he even thought about sticking a new truck in the driveway one a these days. He was allowed to buy Gabriel something nice, occasionally. Sure, maybe he didn’t bleed cash like the doctor did, but he did alright. Alright enough to spoil his partner once in a while. Even though Gabriel threw a little bitchfit whenever Ben shelled out a bit a’ money, it was worth it. So fucking worth it.

 

~

 

“Yo, anybody home?”

“Certainly not with that abhorrent slang, there isn’t.” Hannibal didn’t look up from his desk, his pen gliding over the paper before him as he wrote. Ben’s footsteps were solid and loud, the smile in the younger man’s voice easily detectable.

“Gotcha somethin’.”

Raising an immaculate brow, Hannibal lifted his gaze from his notes and reclined in his chair, hands folded neatly across his trim stomach. His voice was stern and heavy with disapproval.

“Benjamin, I remember speaking to you on several occasions about the notion of buying me gifts.”

Ben snorted, hands clasped behind his back. “Who says I bought it?”

“Did you not?”

“... Well, yeah.”

“Mhm.”

Scuffing his sneaker against the fine carpet, Ben took a step closer. Hannibal tried not to smile at the shine in his eyes, keeping his face grim. Finally heaving a sigh of defeat, he lifted himself out of his chair and asked with a voice of an exasperated adult.

“May I see it?”

Ben’s grin split his face as he pulled the envelope out from behind his back holding it out to the doctor and waiting until he took it, his nonchalant attempt at a casual voice in vain.

“Just a little something I picked up. Looked like your kinda thing.” Hannibal eyed him for a moment longer before carefully opening the envelope, letting the plastic sealed parchment within fall into his hand. It took him less than seconds to identify the century old ink on the paper, the markings that had orchestrated music to soothe the souls of demons themselves. Maroon eyes widened, words disappearing from his tongue as he simply stared. How had Ben...how did...

“My...God.” Was all that came out, jerky and stuttered. Ben’s arm slid around Hannibal’s waist and his lips landed on the doctor’s cheek, grinning like a buffoon.

“Good, I got the right one.”

Peeling his eyes away from the priceless treasure he held in his hands, Dr. Lecter turned instead to the one who stood beside him. This would have cost a fortune, even for him. Something Ben had saved for, hunted for, listened to Hannibal’s every word to know he listened to.

The “I love you” had come before Hannibal could think of what he was saying. Lost in physical pleasure and the rapture of Ben’s words, the flowery declaration was poured out before his brain could begin to comprehend the damage it would cause. Ben did not love him, he loved Gabriel. The lies that ran like poison in his veins had been silenced for a long time, small enough that Hannibal could crush them underfoot, but not this one. Not when it came to a matter so serious as love. How could he love a man and not tell him his own name? How dare he offer his love to a man of such calibre as Benjamin and not even allow him to know his bloodline, his given name, who he was.

Ben’s own smile faltered as Gabriel’s died in his eyes, the doctor’s brief joy quickly swallowed by something darker. Clearing his throat, Huntington stepped back from Ben’s embrace and smiled thinly, setting the parchment atop his desk.

“Yes, well. Thank you. We will still need to check it for authenticity, of course...but I do appreciate the gesture. Truly, Benjamin.”

“Whoa, hey now...What happened?” Ben’s voice was wary, watching as the doctor’s guard came back up and he sidestepped the question.

“I really do need to get back to work.”

“You need to tell me what’s wrong, first. Second ago you were happier n’ a pig in shit, and now you’re-”

“Busy.” Gabriel snapped, maroon points in his eyes swirling like sparks in a wildfire.

“You weren’t busy two motherfuckin’ seconds ago. Jesus Christ.” Ben spat, advancing on Gabriel. “You PMS’ing or something? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing. Is. Wrong.” Hannibal growled, hands clenched around the edge of his desk. Everything is wrong. You and I are wrong. You loving me is wrong. “Now get out.”

Ben turned away from Gabriel and walked out without another word of complaint, confusion and hurt a potent concoction in his head and heart. What had he done? He’d never been that pissed about Ben spending money before. Sure, annoyed...but that was more for show. The fuck was wrong?

Sinking back into his chair, Hannibal let his elbows rest on his desk as he cradled his face in hands, closing his eyes. What could he do? He couldn’t lie to Benjamin forever. To anyone else, he could speak lies to like it was his second tongue, but not with this man. He had meant it when he had said he loved him. Would Ben believe that, if he told him who he really was? Would he believe anything he had ever told him? All of their talks, every moment spent laying at each others sides, every kiss and touch in the dark would be tainted. Benjamin would know he had loved a snake, and it would be over. Santa Monica would be a thing of the past, a happy dream too soon poisoned by the demons that resided in Hannibal’s chest. He had once thought that perhaps Ben could quiet them, maybe even kill them, but it had been foolish to think so. Ben had forced them to hide deeper, and would have vanquished them altogether if the doctor would have let him. But Hannibal had fed them, kept them warm.

Looking through his fingers at the aged parchment before him, the ink seemed to bleed on the page, blur before Hannibal's eyes. He was alarmed for a moment, reaching forward to save the precious gift that Ben had brought to him before a warmth on his cheek made him freeze. Reaching up to cautiously touch his face, the doctor withdrew his hand to see the drop of saltwater suspended from his fingertip, still warm. He could not remember the last time he had cried.

 

~

 

Ben watched everything that came on TV. SportsCentre reruns, old sitcoms, cheesy soaps and everything in between. When he looked up at the clock again it was 11:30 pm, the city outside humming with nightlife. It was a stark contrast to the darkness of the house, silent save for the ticking of the grandfather clock and the muted noise of the television that Ben was not really watching. Gabriel hadn’t come out of his study for over 6 hours. Not to grab a drink, pick up the phone that had rung on more than one occasion, not to apologize. It was confusing, and painful, and Ben had to bear down hard not to be angry.

Sure, Gabriel was moody. He’d been a moody motherfucker since Ben had first met him, sourpuss one second and a teddy bear the next. It was rough weathering shit with him sometimes, but he’d never thought even for a second of spending a day not dealing with it. Gabriel’s brand of insanity was addictive, more so than the whiskey he’d favoured for so long, the weed he still hit from here and there. That was nothing compared to a touch, to the taste of Huntington’s mouth, the murmured “I love you” when he thought Ben was sleeping.

Heaving himself up off the couch, Ben started at a march towards the doctor’s study, pausing and cursing softly. This wasn’t gonna turn into a fight. If he had to stay there all night and physically restrain himself from punching Gabriel in the fucking teeth, he’d do it. But he wasn’t gonna fight with the man, not tonight. Shit, wasn’t this supposed to be easier with two guys? No chick in the mix, maybe he could just walk in, slug him in the shoulder and take a punch back, and they’d be good. But Gabriel didn’t work like that. He hit with words, hard and where it stayed with you.

He didn’t knock when he opened the door. Stepping in, every light in the office was on, as if to chase away any shadows that may have been lurking.

“Little bright, huh?” Ben tried for a laugh and received nothing. Gabriel was still as stone in the center of the room, leaning up against his desk with his hand held up to his face. He rubbed absently at his chin as though contemplating some deep, universe shifting problem, staring at nothing and not moving at Ben’s entry. His eyes were red.

“Gabriel...?” Something heavy fell into Ben’s chest at the sight of the doctor’s eyes, red with what he could recognize as tears. “Shit... say something to me, Gabriel.” His steps grew faster as he approached the doctor, something stopping him from touching the older man. There was a difference in Gabriel’s face that scared Ben more than anger, more than sadness. There was hopeless resolution, the look of a man who had accepted his fate with a hollow heart.

“I lied.”

The words came after a long pause, long enough Ben’s heart had begun to race and he had briefly thought of shaking the older man to get him to say something. Ben leaned closer, unsure if he had caught the words correctly. They didn’t sound right coming from Gabriel, the soft, accented voice of the doctor empty of something that had before given it life. The quiet hum of Huntington’s laptop was the only sound beside the clock and the pounding of Ben’s heart.

“I didn’t hear you, baby...say again?” Ben never called Gabriel that. It elicited nothing but a look of disgust and resulted in howls of laughter from Ben’s end. There was no reaction from Gabriel, nothing at all. The doctor’s lips parted and he spoke again, his voice only a fraction louder.

“I lied to you.”

Ben felt cold. HIs head bent to watch Gabriel’s eyes, he nodded slowly.

“Alright.... alright. What did you lie to me about?”

Hannibal’s gaze rose from the point in space it had rested on and his eyes stung with dryness. He blinked, met Ben’s stare, blinked again. He felt strangely numb, the anguish he had prepared himself for muted by an instinct he had used many times in his life and only taken away by Benjamin.

“I’m not Gabriel Huntington.” Ben’s shoulders sagged and a bolt of pain made its way to Hannibal's heart before his armour could stop it, scrambling to numb him again. There was relief in Ben’s voice, a little chuckle when he spoke.

“Shit... I thought you were about ta say you’d found yourself a woman.” Ben’s hand gently brushed Hannibal's bare forearm, his voice solemn. “Doc, you could be the Tylenol Killer and I’d still love ya ta pieces. Okay?”

Gabriel’s short laugh sounded far too much like a broken sob for Ben’s taste. Pulling away from the younger man’s touch, the doctor reached behind him to turn the laptop screen towards Ben. On the screen lay the ten grim faces of the FBI’s Most Wanted, grey in old mugshots. Ben’s brow furrowed in confusion, looking up into the dead eyes of Dr. Gabriel Huntington before him. Hannibal Lecter’s voice held the last of his strength.

“See anyone familiar?” he asked. Ben looked again, a freezing feeling of dread once more creeping through his veins, eyes flicking over the faces and praying to any god that might be listening that this was just a sick fucking joke. Dr. Hannibal Lecter looked up at him with the same maroon eyes he had looked into time and time again, with the same mouth he had tasted and the same face he’d touched. Ben felt sick.

Hannibal watched with a shallow humming in his ears as Ben took a step back, quickly followed by another. Disappointment, disgust, fear clashed on his face as his eyes came back to Dr. Lecter’s, shaking his head as he kept retreating. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

“I’ll be gone by morning. You will never see me again, you needn’t worry. I meant it when I said I loved you.” Hannibal’s voice was soft, resigned and sad.

Ben stared into the face of a stranger for a long minute, before he spun on his heel and bolted from the study as fast as he could run.

He took Hannibal’s heart with him.

 

 


	14. Fourteen.

The quickly cooling air of the California evening was sharp in Ben’s lungs as he ran, stumbling out the front door and booking it to his truck. His hands, still shaking, fumbled with the door handle as he fought to unlock the vehicle, his mind swirling too fast for him to try and focus on any one thought at a time. When his key finally slipped into the lock and he threw himself inside, his hands had begun to shake so violently he couldn't place the key in the ignition.

“Come on... come on...” He muttered to himself, his heart hammering so loud in his chest he was sure that Gabriel could- No, that wasn’t Gabriel. There was no such thing as Gabriel Huntington. The wave of nausea that had threatened Ben inside the house came again, and he retched before he could stop himself. Hannibal Lecter. Wracking his brain, he tried to sort out amidst the confusion what he knew about the man. He’d read some things in the newspapers, spotted headlines from the gutter tabloids in the checkout lines, but he’d never really dug into it. Hannibal the Cannibal. The guy who fucking cooked all those people, the psycho one who broke out of prison. Jesus fucking Christ...

How couldn't he have seen it? The striking similarities between Gabriel - Not, not Gabriel. Fucking hell, the man he had fallen in love with was nothing but a farce. He’d tumbled head over heels for a facade, a stranger put up to hide the monster below.  Forcing himself to take deep, shaky breaths, Ben let his head drop back against the headrest of the seat and closed his eyes. Opening them again, the light in Gab- Hannibal’s study was still on, his shadow framed against the light. He hadn’t moved, it looked like. Had this been a game to him? Some sort of sick mindfuck, working to get Ben to fall for him before springing this fucking thing? Anger welled up hot and vengeful in Ben’s gut as he reached for his phone, his jaw tight and eyes burning.

“Show you, you fucking sicko. See how funny this is when the cops drag you back to jail...” He growled softly, narrowing his gaze at the silhouette in the window as he brought the phone to life. Looking down to access the numerical pad, Ben’s thumb froze as his eyes met the screen. There, frozen in a photo Ben had long treasured, were he and Hannibal. Cheek to cheek, Ben grinning like a fool with his fingers up in bunny ears behind the doctors head, Hannibal’s smile somewhat smaller but alive in his eyes. There was no trace of bitterness in Lecter’s face, not a hint of malice or betrayal. There was nothing but happiness.

He stared at the photo until the screen faded to black, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. Anger dissolved to give way to sadness. Looking up again, Ben saw that Hannibal's shadow in the window was gone and wondered idly if he had left out the back of the house. The papers had called him evil, rotten to the core, a pure sociopath with no hope of sanity. Ben had called him friend, protector, and lover. The man that the world knew and the man Ben had come to know seemed so different for a moment Ben deluded himself into thinking that maybe they were two different people, that this was all a dream and Gabriel hadn’t lied to him at all. But he had. Hannibal Lecter had stitched Benjamin back together better than any drug, any shrink, any glass of alcohol could ever do, and had never once seemed to do it for his own enjoyment. Come to think of it, Hannibal had never done anything for himself in Ben’s company, never been anything but selfless.

If Hannibal had been cold when he had confessed... If he would have been cruel, calculating, smug, Ben could have called the police. His fingers seemed frozen over the phone, unable to call for help. There had been nothing but anguish in the doctor's face, pure and unaltered sorrow. His violent mood swings, the way Ben caught him looking at him when he thought he couldn’t see... there was regret written on his face, the weight of a secret he didn’t dare spill heavy on his shoulders.

How could something so evil be so kind? Why would it save him, carefully and patiently guide him away from the nightmares that had plagued him and show him peace. Hannibal... couldn't be all the way bad. Good people made bad choices, even if those choices were murder and cannibalism. Maybe that was a bit of a stretch, but all the same...

I meant it when I said I loved you.

The echo of words in Ben’s mind made him swallow again, his heart within his chest torquing painfully. Had he really? It could have easily been just another piece in Lecter’s game, just another pike in Ben’s heart for when the time came. How could a man fake such sadness, such agony at the end?

Ben didn’t even notice that he had gotten out of the car until the breeze coming off the ocean made him shiver. The light in the study was off.

 

~

 

Hannibal retrieved little as he went throughout the house, bare necessities for a fast exit. Cash was gathered, his clothes changed, a brief pause before he took the musical score’s Ben had given him. He felt empty, as though he had just given blood. It was a curious feeling, one he had felt only once before in his life. When he had last seen his aunt, Lady Murasaki, when she had cursed his name on the barge in the river, the pain did not compare to this. It had been one flash before the welcome numbness had returned that had stayed with him throughout his life. The armour that Ben had chipped away was slowly returning, and in time, he knew the hollow ache within his chest would fade. It would take perhaps days, months, in this case even years, but it would come. He could not call it peace, but anything besides the wretched feeling in his stomach would do.

He hurried, but not as fast as he would of in other occasions. Briefly Hannibal considered simply waiting until the police arrived and going quietly, submitting himself to a lifetime of a view behind the glass and the comfort of his mind palace. He could live there, undisturbed, allow himself to watch the happy memories of he and Benjamin until the day he died. It didn’t sound like such a bad way to spend the remainder of his life, one he could quite possibly enjoy more than running and making himself another home somewhere in the world, a wanted man.

As powerful as Hannibal’s mind was, he could not erase the sight of Ben’s horror, the way he had run from the room to escape him. It had burned itself into his brain to stay, something he would avoid as he avoided thoughts of his childhood, the consequences of each just as severe as the other. So caught up was he in his own mind, he did not hear the first knock on the bedroom door. The second barely registered, and he idly wondered when the police had begun to knock before apprehending someone.

“Ga- ... Hannibal.” That was not a stranger's voice. Looking up dully from the score he had not realized he’d been staring at, Hannibal blinked once at the sight of Ben standing in the door.

“Yes?” He said quietly, unwilling to accept this reality just yet. Balancing on a precipice, his armour threatened to fall with Ben’s next words.

“So you’re really him, then.” Ben rubbed the back of his next, forcing himself to meet Lecter’s eyes. The doctor nodded slowly, his shoulders sagging once more.

“I am, yes.”

Ben nodded, blowing out a long breath as his arms folded across his chest. “Why didn’t... why didn't you tell me?”

Hannibal laughed once, a humourless and sad sound. Ben hated it.

“How could I?” Unable to retort against the statement that was nothing but true, Ben fought to find words. Hannibal beat him too it.

“Why are you here?” He asked, voice rough with what he repressed in his chest. Ben snorted, walking forward to Hannibal’s shock.

“Because I love you, you fucking asshole.” He said, grabbing the stunned silent doctor by his hand and yanking him into his arms, grumbling near his ear. “And I swear to God, you ever fucking eat anybody and you’re on the couch for the rest of your life.”

Hannibal, for the first time in his adult life, found not a single word to say. Ben’s arms tight around him, the growled threat in his ear, pulled a disbelieving laugh from his chest and hot tears from his eyes. Without another moment of hesitation, Hannibal wrapped arms around Ben’s chest and hugged him back so tightly Ben made a little noise, bones complaining with the force of the embrace. Burying his face in Ben’s shoulder, Hannibal took a deep, shaky inhale of the younger man’s scent and willed the tears to stop, rocking gently and unwilling to let go.

“I think that was just a phase, if I’m to be honest. People are too stringy.” Ben snorted a laugh and pressed his nose against the doctors cheek, shaking his head.

“You’re a piece of fucking work, Doc. I swear.”

They stood like that for a long time, each unwilling to be the first to let go. Hannibal was not sure that his knees would support him if Ben were to release him.

“I think...” The doctor began, before Ben cut him off.

“That you need ta sit yer ass down and have a long talk with me. No lies.” He said firmly. Hannibal nodded against Ben’s shoulder, pulling back to look at the other man with his face grim, voice solemn and serious.

“Benjamin... On my honour, I will never lie to you again. As long as we both shall live.” He said evenly, Ben looking at him for a long moment before nodding.

“No, ya won’t. Cause if there’s a next time...” He inhaled deeply.

“There won’t be.” Hannibal insisted.

“If there’s a next time, Hannibal, this whole mess? This kinda hurt? Is gonna be nothin’.” Ben slowly let go of the other man, Hannibal carefully testing the steadiness of his feet before sinking down to sit on the edge of the bed, waiting until Ben followed him.

“Can’t believe I couldn’t see it, really.” Ben half laughed, his hands pressed together between his knees. “I mean... the wine, fancy music an’ shit, you look the same as him...”

“I am him, Benjamin.” Hannibal reminded quietly.

“Right, right. That’s gonna take me a bit ta get used to.” Ben grumbled softly, laying back on the bed and rubbing his face.

“I tried to keep you from seeing it.” The doctor said, staying seated. “Extremely hard. It killed me, every time I kept your eyes closed.”

“Then why did you keep it up? Been almost a year...” Hannibal winced, tugging at a fray on his slacks.

“How could I have told you? I was afraid. I never thought...” He stopped and Ben cocked a brow.

“Never thought?”

“I never planned to fall in love with you. A brief fling, perhaps, before we would go our separate ways.”

“Well that plan kinda went ta shit, hmm?”

“To put it lightly.” Hannibal laughed softly, rubbing his hands over his face. They shook slightly, the onslaught of emotion leaving his limbs like water. “I can’t believe you came back.”

“Well, I’ll be straight up, here... pardon the pun. I damn near didn’t.” Hannibal’s smile was weak, but it was still there.

“I can’t say I blame you. Why didn’t you?” He asked, turning to look down at Ben. The younger man shrugged once, eyes meeting Hannibal’s with a grin that swallowed his heart.

“Way I figure it, Ga- Hannibal, is that I’ve met some pretty fucked up folks in my life. I mean real nutjobs.” Exhaling softly, Ben reached out to lay his hand on Hannibal’s thigh, the doctors covering it with his own with no hesitation. “So, ya did some shit that I’m not okay with. I’ve done some shit you’re probably not okay with either. We can talk about that a different day. Point being... Ya pulled me outta somewhere that wasn’t lookin’ good for me. And hell... if you can save me, I might as well try an’ save you, right?”

Ben looked up from playing with Hannibal’s fingers to see the doctor staring at him as though he’d grown a second head. Furrowing his brow and moving to speak again, Ben stopped as Hannibal shook his head.

“Benjamin... I have no idea what I did in my life to deserve you.” Ben laughed out loud then, heaving himself up from where he lay to take a seat beside Hannibal and slip his arm around the doctor’s waist.

“Really? Didn’t donate any cash to charity, save a nun from a burning building...” He prompted with a grin, nudging the doctor gently in the ribs. Dr. Lecter laughed, laying his head against the younger man’s shoulder.

“No, no... can’t say I have. Perhaps it’s just luck.”

“Shit, better go out and buy m’self a lottery ticket, then.” Ben grinned, brushing his lips to the doctor’s forehead. The duo sat like that for a few long minutes, relishing in the comfortable silence.

“Hey, Gab- Hannibal?” Ben asked.

“Hmmmm?” Was all the doctor said, his eyes closed in contentment.

“I apologize in advance if I yell the wrong name in bed for a while.” Pulling his head off Ben’s shoulder, Hannibal stared at him for a long moment, the two of them silent before erupting into laughter. They laughed until the tears came, from humour and relief, arms and legs intertwining before mouths met and the room was silent once more.

 

 


	15. Fifteen.

Things got better. Scars began to fade with time, wounded skin healed and trust, brick by brick, rebuilt. It was not quick, nor simple, but progress remained ongoing and did not waver. Ben asked questions for the first few weeks, peppering Hannibal with them like bullets. The doctor answered each and every one honestly, even the ones he did not want Ben to know the answers to. He had made him a promise, and it was one he would solemnly uphold until his dying day. Hannibal did not like to think about the night Ben had left very much, and it was a topic Ben soon learned to avoid.

It was taking time for Hannibal to learn to relax, to adjust to the absence of lying on his tongue and in his blood. Short tempers and little pet-peeves didn’t help.

“Did your mother not teach you to knock, Benjamin?” Hannibal questioned exasperatedly, throwing up his hands as Ben trotted in, shaggy hair dripping wet from his shower with a towel held up around his waist. “You’re dripping all over my carpet.”

“Our carpet, Hannibal,” Ben muttered, rooting throughout the organized chaos that was Dr. Lecter’s bookshelves, a small sound of triumph as he found what he was looking for. Closing his hand around the book, he turned to see the unamused face of the doctor watching him, brooding from behind his desk.

“Unless ya were rubbin’ one out and didn’t want me in here, I don’t really need ta knock, now do I?” Ben asked rolling his eyes.

Hannibal stood up and glanced towards the book in Ben’s hand, the cover turned away. “As if I would need to, with you around...what book is that?” Ben shrugged a shoulder and attempted to slide out of the room, hair flopping down over his eyes.

“Nothin’. Just readin’ material.”

“Oh, please. You never read.”

“I do so.”

“Not counting Men’s Health.”

“...It’s a cookbook.” Raising a brow in surprise, Hannibal’s facial expression quickly shifted into a bemused smirk, leaning against his desk.

“Oh why, pray tell...do you need that?”

Ben huffed, pulling up the towel that had begun to slip and ignoring how Hannibal’s eyes followed it.

“Cause I ran outta toilet paper. Whaddya think I need it for?”

Hannibal couldn't help but chuckle.

“My my, someone’s defensive. I didn’t take you for a chef...” The doctor grinned, white teeth gleaming in his smile. Ben felt heat begin in his face, sweeping over his chest and down to his groin, beating a hasty retreat before a problem could develop beneath his towel. He’d never get out of the study, if that happened.

 

~

 

“So...whatcha think?” Ben stared Hannibal down from across the table, watching as the doctor took his first bite of the linguini pasta, topped with shrimp and tomatoes. Holding up one finger as he chewed, Hannibal’s expression grew thoughtful, rolling the taste around his tongue and drawing out his reaction just to get under Ben’s skin. A moment before the younger man was able to complain, Hannibal wiped his mouth with his napkin and reached to cover Ben’s hand with his own.

“The greatest dinner I have ever had the privilege to enjoy, my dear Benjamin.”

Ben snorted loudly and rolled his eyes, barely covering the surge of pride Hannibal’s statement brought about. He wasn’t a half-ass cook, when he put his mind to it.

“Yeah, yeah...asskisser,” Ben muttered before digging into his own plate, pushing his hair out of his eyes with his free hand.

“And you’ve commended me for it on multiple occasions.” Hannibal quipped as he swirled another forkful, watching with disdain as a lock of hair fell down to cover Ben’s eyes. “Benjamin, you need a haircut.”

Looking up from his plate with a mouthful of pasta, Ben finished chewing and swallowed before he spoke, pointing his fork towards the doctor.

“And you need ta quit yer bitchin’ and eat dinner. You get grouchy when you’re hungry.”

“I don’t want to sleep with a mop.” Dr. Lecter protested grumbling softly before retrieving another bite. Ben shoved another forkful into his mouth, shrugging one shoulder.

“Really? Not even if the mop had an awesome ass, and the mop was game for blowing you?” Ben grinned with the hesitation at the other end of the table. “That’s what I thought. I’m goin’ for the beach boy look.”

“You look plenty enough like a beach boy already.” Hannibal complained, chasing a mouthful with a sip of water. “Please, Ben. A trim wouldn't hurt you.”

“I ain’t lettin’ you haul me down to some girly salon to have a gum-poppin’, spray-tanned skank yak on about her kids while she cuts my hair. Not happenin’,” Ben said firmly, shoving another bite into his mouth.

“Well, what if I cut your hair?” Hannibal asked innocently, eyes falling to his plate as he swirled up another bite. Ben raised his eyes from his food and squinted towards the doctor, pausing for a moment.

“You can cut hair?” Hannibal snorted, looking up to match his gaze with Ben’s.

“Of course I can. It’s not exactly a precise science. A snip here, a trim there...you’ll be good as new.”

Ben eyed him for a long, silent minute, before a sigh of defeat left his lungs and he grumpily went back to his dinner.

“Fine. Long as I don’t end up bald.”

~

 

“So you’ve done this before, right?” Ben asked as Hannibal buttoned the cape around his neck, the scissors and buzzer set to the side.

“Hmmm? Oh, of course. I cut my own hair all the time.” Hannibal assured, rolling the sleeves of his button down up to his elbows, dark vest a stark contrast against the white.

“Yeah, okay...but you’ve got a shitton less hair than I do.” Ben protested, craning his neck to try and see the doctor behind him. A light flick to his cheek had him straightening again, sulking with the reprimand.

“The technique is the same, Benjamin. Stay still.” Dr. Lecter chided, withdrawing a comb from his pocket to begin to work through Ben’s hair. “God, this is a rat's nest.”

“Thanks,” Ben grumbled, wincing as Hannibal gave a particularly sharp tug. “Ouch! Hey, you’re cuttin’ this. Not rippin’ it out.”

“I’m sorry.” Hannibal apologized, leaning to kiss Ben’s cheek. Ben grumbled softly with the kiss but stayed still, the tugs much gentler when the doctor resumed.

“So, tell me. What would you like done?”

Ben shrugged a shoulder, blowing out a breath through his nose.

“Can’t say I care much... what do you like?” He asked. Hannibal thought for a minute, working through a knot with his fingers and the comb, pursing his lips.

“Shorter than this, but not too short.”

“Long enough to yank, you’re sayin’.” Ben smirked softly, knowing that the doctor was grinning behind him.

“More or less, yes.”

“Alright, then. Have at 'er." Ben relaxed back into the chair as Hannibal began to snip, enjoying the feeling of his strong, steady hand gently tipping and guiding his head to get him to lean where he needed him.

“We’ve done pretty damn alright, haven’t we,” Ben suddenly said, his eyes focused out the window and watching the sea. Hannibal glanced up once from his work before focusing again, hands never stopping.

“In what respect do you mean?”

“Us. We done alright.” Hannibal smiled at the corner of his mouth, lopping off another tangled chunk of Ben’s dirty blonde hair.

“Yes... In comparison to all things, we have.”

“You in this for the long haul?” Ben asked and was answered by a sharp tug of his hair.

“Whoops.” Hannibal said, not at all sorry. “Yes, Ben. I suppose you could say, after the numerous highs and lows that we have been through...I’m in it for the 'long haul.' I think it’s safe to say that I’m quite committed to you.”

“Almost a year together, now. Shit.” Ben laughed, grinning softly as Hannibal’s thumb soothed over the spot he had just tugged, a wordless apology.

“A long time," the doctor said softly. “But a drop in the ocean next to forever.”

“Keep talkin’ like that...” Ben said quietly, closing his eyes as his head relaxed on his shoulders. “All...romantic and shit. I like listenin’ to ya.” Hannibal chuckled quietly as he flicked on the electric buzzer, working to trim up the rest of Ben’s hair.

“Romantic, hmm? If you were to read some of my books, not including cookbooks...perhaps you could begin to speak like that, too. Though I am rather fond of your brand of simplistic affection.”

“Hannibal?”

“Hmmm?”

“Shut up and start talkin’ sweet.”

“Yes dear.” Hannibal smiled outright then, combing his fingers through Ben's thick, messy hair. “Forever is a vision that not many can imagine, you see...it’s too difficult for the mind to comprehend. Ten years, twenty years, even fifty...the mind can handle that. It’s a realistic amount of time. You can set goals, see yourself with the holder of your heart that far in advance. But forever...”

Ben whistled softly. “Is a shitload of time.”

Hannibal laughed, the hum of the buzzer a steady drone in the air.

“To put it lightly, yes. I would like, if you would permit it...to share my forever with you.” Ben swallowed at the honey in Hannibal’s voice, smooth comfort over his accent. The room felt much warmer.

“I’d like that,” Ben said simply, keeping himself still in the chair.

“As would I,” Hannibal murmured, gently cupping Ben’s ear to protect it from the blade, trimming carefully against his skin. “I can see it, you and I. In ten, twenty, fifty years...old and graying on a porch swing somewhere.”

“Like a gay as hell Anne of Green Gables.” Hannibal and Ben laughed together, Ben grinning as Hannibal swatted the back of Ben’s shoulder.

“Don’t make me laugh, you brute. I don’t want to mess this up.” He chided, but there was good humour in his voice.

“Well hell...you’ve already got some gray goin’ on there, Doctor. You ain’t far off.” Ben teased, earning himself another swat.

“A little gray is completely normal for a man my age. I’ll have you know I had an uncle who went gray barely into his twenties.”

“Mhmmm. Did this uncle have wings and fly, too?”

“You are such an ass.”

“Your favorite part of my body, I’m sure. 'Sides my mouth."

“At times, yes. Why do you think I keep you around?”

“Hardy har har. Shut up and cut my hair, barber.”

“Don’t sass the man with the scissors.” Hannibal warned playfully, his brow furrowing as he focused in on trimming the back of Ben’s head.

“You know, I was thinkin’ about somethin’.” Ben mused aloud, tipping his head forward as Hannibal’s hand guided him.

“And what was that?” Dr. Lecter asked, half listening as he carefully trimmed.

“What would ya think about...ever gettin’ married?”

There was a harsh buzz suddenly in the air as Hannibal startled, a ruckus from behind Ben.

“Shit.” The doctor cursed in a whisper.

“Whoa, what? What’s shit for?”

“Nothing! Dropped something on my foot.” Hannibal answered hurriedly, eyeing the perfectly square, buzz-cut patch of scalp showing on the back of Ben’s head.

“Bull-fucking-shit you did. The fuck did you do to my hair, Doc...” Ben's voice was low and warning, Hannibal releasing a sigh of defeat before slowly lifting the mirror and allowing Ben to see.

“... Shit.”

“I can fix it.” Ben turned in his chair to stare at Hannibal, giving him a disbelieving laugh.

“You gonna wave your magic wand and make it grow back?”

“Well, marriage caught me off guard,” Hannibal said defensively, muttering softly.

“Well hell, if ya don’t wanna...”

“I do,” The doctor said firmly, glancing up at Ben. “But...not now. Not yet.”

“I don’t care if ya don’t ask me 'til we’ve hit the Green Gables stage, long as ya ask.” Ben grinned softly towards Hannibal, laying his head back against the chair. “Now...you better fix that shit.”

“Well, we have two options.” Hannibal mused, eyeing the spot from a number of different angles. “We can leave it as is, or you could try a buzz-cut for a little while.”

“How about a fauxhawk?” Hannibal blinked as if Ben had just began to speak Lebanese.

“A pardon?”

“It’s like a mohawk...buzz cut everywhere but the middle. Google a picture.” Hannibal obeyed, searching through images on his phone, his brow raising higher with every photo he saw.

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on. Try it. It’s just hair.”

So he did. Buzzed and trimmed and tried not to laugh too hard with Ben’s jokes, or slip up again. When they’d finished, Ben had a lot less hair to show for it, and tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.

And was never letting Hannibal cut his fucking hair ever again.

 

 


	16. Sixteen.

Clear and bright in his mind, it was the memory of Ben’s laughter that brought the smile to Hannibal’s face. Sitting alone in his study with his fingers coaxing a melody from the ivory keys of his piano, the music flowed around the still form of Dr. Lecter as water parts around a stone. The memory of the sunny afternoon upstairs, now nearly six months past, never ceased to bring a lightness to Hannibal’s chest. He was careful not to call upon it too much, lest it lose its zeal. The music he summoned from the keys was played near perfectly, a distant echo of ancient masters long buried and turned to dust. Hannibal Lecter had no need of sheet music, playing with his head tipped back and his eyes closed, letting the crystal notes of “If True Love Reigned” swarm and dance through the air around him.

Opening his eyes, the maroon reflecting the dying light of the California sun, he glanced down at his hands and watched them as they played over the keys. He observed them curiously, as though the hands of a stranger created the music, and not his own. They were fine hands, stronger than they appeared, weathered yet not rough. A band of gold would do nothing but accent them, he felt. Though Hannibal had always loathed the idea of a wedding ring, finding the need for metal to cement marriage superficial, he found himself imagining. It wouldn't have to be anything overly gaudy, or flashy...just something both simple and precious, as he believed was a direct representation of he and Benjamin.

Gold and titanium...the design began to form in his brain as he watched his fingers move, saw in his mind’s eye the flash of light the sun would draw from the metal. He would be proud to bear a ring that Benjamin bestowed upon him, prouder still to see the band on his...husband’s hand. The idea had begun to seem less and less alien to him, evolving from a distant fantasy to a desire. Ben had asked him once if he was “in it for the long haul.” What greater way to prove that to the younger man than through a proposal of marriage?

Losing himself to the easy sound of music and the calming flow of his thoughts, Hannibal closed his eyes once more and let himself relax, the warm smell of the sea drifting in through the open French doors. He truly did love living by the ocean, and though Ben had at first complained about leaving his old home behind...it was not hard for Hannibal to see that he did not regret the move into the doctor’s home. More than likely because I keep the fridge stocked. Dr. Lecter thought to himself with a private smile, his mental gripe not something he minded at all. He had grown quite fond of feeding Ben, to the point where the younger man had begun to complain that the doctor was making it damn near impossible for him to stay in shape, wondering aloud if he was just fattening him up.

The heavy sound of footsteps began to clomp up the stairs, the door swinging open and the distinct scent of Benjamin entering the room, shattering the music that had gathered amongst the cobwebs and in the air. Hannibal's eyes opened as he slowed his playing, the melody never ceasing, just slowing slightly.

“Yes?” He asked tolerantly, sighing as Ben set himself down on the narrow expanse of bench at his side, the bag of potato chips in his hand crinkling almost as noisily as the crunching of the chips in his mouth. Ben grinned with the doctor’s sigh, finishing the mouthful of chips before leaning over to kiss Hannibal’s cheek.

“Whatcha playin’?” Ben asked, watching his hands float over the keys and as always marveling at the ease with which Hannibal played.

“It’s called “If True Love Reigned.” Dr. Lecter told him, smiling at the warm kiss on his cheek, though the grease from the chips he knew would be shining on his skin. The things he tolerated for Ben’s sake...

“Sounds romancy. Somethin’ old?”

“Very. It was actually composed in the year-” A loud crunch directly beside Hannibal's ear made him flinch, a jagged note clanging from the keys and his mouth tightening into a thin line.

“Sorry.”

“That’s quite alright. Was there something you needed, Ben?” Dr. Lecter asked coolly, met with Ben’s wide blue puppy eyes and the weight of the man’s head on his shoulder, a strong arm around his waist.

“I missed ya, was all.”

“I just went upstairs. And I’ve been here for hardly twenty minutes,” Hannibal said gently, twisting his head to gently kiss Ben’s forehead. “Now. As much as I love that you’ve so missed my company...tell me what you really came up here for. It wasn’t to share your food, of that I’m certain.”

Ben grinned against the fabric of Hannibal’s shirt, pulling his head up again to watch him continue to play. Since he’d gotten used to Hannibal reading him like an open fuckin’ book, him knowin’ what he was thinkin’ most of the time was somewhat bearable. Annoyin’ as fuck most a’ the time, but it was gettin’ better.

“Get outta my head, Doc.” He laughed, watching Hannibal’s nose wrinkle in distaste at the nickname. “I was just...thinkin’.”

“I don’t like that sentence.” The doctor remarked quietly, the music dropping in timbre. Ben rolled his eyes.

“Oh, shut up. I was thinkin’...we been together a long time, Hannibal. Over a year, now.”

“Yes, and I haven’t eaten you yet. Remarkable.” The doctor muttered under his breath, earning himself a jab in the ribs.

“Knock it off, why don’t ya. I’m just...well fuck, my parents don’t even know I checked in to see a shrink, yet.” Looking up from his music, Hannibal furrowed a brow and stared at Ben in surprise.

“You’re seeing another psychiatrist?” Ben snorted loudly and rolled his eyes, smacking Hannibal on the arm.

“No, ya dumbass. I meant I didn’t tell em’ when I first went ta see ya. They’re a bit out of the loop.” Shrugging a shoulder, Hannibal turned back to the keys and hummed softly along to the melody, eyes hooding again.

“And? I don’t see why they need to know. Your nightmares are a thing of the past, and doctor-patient confidentiality prevents me from-”

“I mean about us, Hannibal. They don’t know about us.”

“Do they need to?” The doctor asked. “From what you’ve told me about them, which is...nothing, I don’t consider informing them of our relationship a high priority.”

“Hey,” Ben said, his arm around Hannibal’s waist rubbing softly. “I love you, right?”

“As I love you. Completely.”

“And you an’ I are gonna end up hitched at some time or another, right?”

“Yes, without a doubt.”

“My mom finds out I got married without tellin’ her and she’ll wreck any honeymoon plans you might have; right fuckin’ quick,” Ben said seriously, earning a laugh from Hannibal until he turned to look at the younger man and met the deadpan look on his face.

“You’re serious.”

“Damn right.” Ben sighed, leaning forward to catch Hannibal's mouth with his, the music stopping for the first time since he’d entered the room. The kiss was soft, slow, a comfort to both of the men who shared it. “They’re my parents, Hannibal. And yeah, shit may be rough...but the right thing ta do is tell em’.”

“You know, as well as I, that we can’t tell them everything. Are you willing to accept that?”

“I think Mr. Ben Huntington sounds just fine, ta them. You can call me Lecter under the covers.” Ben grinned, bringing an answering smile from Hannibal, his hands resting lightly on the keys before they slid to hold Ben close.

“Alright. Whatever eases you, you know I support. Will you be calling them tonight?” Hannibal asked, gently nosing Ben’s cheek and letting himself relish the younger man’s scent. Ben allowed himself to enjoy the gentle touch for a moment, before his eyes blinked open and he cocked a brow in confusion.

“Call them?” Hannibal pulled back to look at his partner, his own brow furrowed.

“Why, yes. How else would you contact them? Unless you would prefer to text them, but I doubt that that’s an appropriate means of informing your parents that you’re in love with and have been sleeping with your male psychiatrist for the past year.”

“Hannibal, we’re goin’ ta South Carolina,” Ben said firmly, patiently waiting until the deer in the headlights look on Hannibal’s face passed, the way the doctor’s body froze up in shock.

“No, we are not.”

“Yeah, we kinda are. I already called my ma an’ told her we were. Booked it off work an’ all. Next week. Ten days. You got cowboy boots?”

“I’m going to murder you.”

“No, ya ain’t. ‘Cause that would mean no sex, an’ Lord knows you couldn't handle that. I’m deadly serious.”

“And you thought this would be fine to go behind my back because?...”

“You’d throw a little hissy fit, like ya are now. Come on, it’ll be fun. My Ma can cook like ya wouldn't believe, the ranch is real pretty this time a’ year, you can fuck me in my ol’ bedroom...”

“She can’t cook better than I can.”  

“Oh, I don’t know...”

“I don’t think I’d be alright with fucking you in the same house your parents sleep in.”

“Oh, please. Ya know how many times I jerked off in that bed?”

“Knowing your libido, more than once.”

“Exactly. I’ll bite the pillow.”  

“Benjamin...”

“Hannibal,” Ben said, taking the doctor’s hands in his own, careful not spill the chip bag as he set it down before he did so. “Do this for me. Ya know I don’t ask much.”

Hannibal grumbled softly as Ben wound his grease-slicked fingers between his own. “No, besides to be fed, clothed, have a warm place to sleep, to be fucked constantly...”

“You complainin’?”

“Not on your life.”

“Do this for me, Hannibal. Ten days...that’s it.”

“Ten? Not five? Or seven?”

“Seriously, man. Pushin’ me, here.”

“Fine. I’ll do it because I love you, and that’s it.” Ben grinned wide and planted a kiss on Hannibal’s mouth once more, this time throwing passion and his tongue into the mix, drawing a surprised Mmph! from the doctor.

“Thank ya. I love you.”

“Yes, I love you too.” Hannibal grumbled again, reaching past Ben after the kiss had ended to snatch a chip from the bag and pop it into his mouth, chewing angrily. Ben grinned wide and retrieved the bag as he let go of Hannibal’s hands, watching the doctor wipe his own on Ben’s shorts.

“Would ya keep playin’ for me? That song you were when I came in?” He asked, resting his head on Hannibal’s shoulder once more.

“Yes.” Dr. Lecter answered, laying his fingers back on the keys. “But first...how, pray tell, did you tell your mother that I was coming?”

“I told her I was bringin’ a friend.”

“Did you specify what gender?”

“Nope. I’m pretty sure she thinks you’re a bubbly blonde with tits, Hannibal.”

“Splendid.” The doctor sighed, continuing the melody where he had left off as though he was rekindling a love affair with an old flame. He began slowly at first, each note soft and shy, growing in intensity like a fire gathering strength. Ben closed his eyes and kept quiet, listening to the music he did not yet quite understand.

In time he would, Hannibal knew. He could sit with him every day if he liked and let the music speak to him, and eventually, he would come to listen to it. It was easy to forget that a world outside of this room existed in times such as this, Ben’s warmth radiating against his side and the pure notes singing like a choir of angels in the air. It was heavenly, serene, and peaceful; melodies composed in centuries past recreated in all of their glory...

The loud crunch of chips between teeth shattered the peace in Hannibal’s mind and snapped his eyes open, turning his head to look down at the man resting on his shoulder. Ben looked up at his with blue eyes innocent, his full mouth working slowly once, and once again, finishing the mouthful of chips before smiling up at Dr. Lecter.

“Hi.”

“Hello. Are you finished?”

Ben peeked into the bag before offering it up to Hannibal.

“You can have the rest.”

The doctor tried very hard not to melt with the grin on Ben’s face, staring at him for a long minute before sighing and withdrawing his hands from the keyboard, muttering as he took the crumbs left at the bottom.

“What am I going to do with you...”

 

 


	17. Seventeen.

“Are we there yet?” Ben looked over at Hannibal in the driver’s seat, grinning as the doctor’s jaw tightened.

Vicing his hands around the steering wheel and inhaling deeply through his nose, Dr. Lecter kept his voice calm when he replied.

“Benjamin Stephens...if you ask me that one more time, you’ll be riding in the trunk.” He spoke through his teeth, one hand moving to click on the radio. Ben grinned wider and kicked his bare feet on the dash as he reclined his seat, hands folding behind his head. As their second day of driving drew to a close, even a blind man could see that Hannibal was more than ready to get out of the car and stay out for a few days. Wasn’t his fault the doctor didn’t like road trips. Ben loved em’. Window rolled down and the cool breeze in his hair, radio on and his feet up. Sure was nice. When Hannibal wasn’t as grouchy, the conversation kept him entertained, and the occasional pit stops for a quick backseat fuck helped to take the edge off the long hours on the road.

“I really think you’re gonna like Charleston. It’s right on the ocean, ya know.”

“I thought we were staying at your ranch?” Hannibal muttered, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.

“Well...we are, but we could swing inta town a night or two. Come on. Walk on the beach and all that shit you love.”

“Hmmph.”

“Decided where we’re gonna stop yet?”

Hannibal sighed at Ben’s endless questions, rubbing his eyes under his glasses and blinking to clear his vision. This trip couldn't end soon enough. Not that the time spent with Ben wasn’t enjoyable, but sitting for this long in a small, enclosed space - something he detested - was getting old rather quickly.

“I haven’t, no. Where would you like to stay?”

“Somewhere with a bigass bed. A continental breakfast, and a jacuzzi,” Ben said immediately. Hannibal smiled despite the cramped heat of the Jag that the AC was doing little to help.

“You have the phone, look it up and choose a spot.”

Ben obediently pulled his phone from his pocket and began to tap away, thankful for the distraction. He was grateful to have something else to think about besides the looming visit that was now less than a day away. It was nice to have Hannibal at his side, but all the same...he couldn't quite fight the feeling that something would go wrong.

 

~

 

“Not too bad, wouldja say?” Ben said as the two walked into the suite of the College Inn, dropping his bags on the floor beside the bed and stretching his arms over his head. Treading tiredly after him, Hannibal set his bags down the laid himself on the bed, rubbing his eyes and yawning out loud.

“No, not bad. I’ll confess I’m tired enough that sleeping in the car would’ve seemed heavenly.” Hannibal mumbled, earning a smile from Ben that quickly died.

“You know, we could still turn around.” Ben laughed shortly, a nervous sound that made Hannibal sit up on the bed and eye Benjamin with concern in his face. Wordlessly beckoning him closer, Hannibal waited as Ben obeyed and sank to sit next to him on the bed before wrapping his arm around the younger man’s shoulder in comfort.

“You’re afraid of their reaction.”

“Yeah,” Ben answered bluntly, leaning into the older man. “Shit, it ain’t even legal there yet,” he half muttered, closing his eyes as Hannibal kissed his temple.

“It’ll be alright, Ben. I’ll be there,” the doctor murmured softly, giving his partner a gentle squeeze. “Sleep. You’ll feel better.”

Ben nodded slowly, speaking on an exhale. “Okay.”

Not much later, pajamas on and beneath the covers, Ben rolled into Hannibal’s arms and closed his eyes against the doctor’s chest, taking a deep inhale of his cologne.

“G’night, Hannibal.”

“Goodnight, Benjamin,” Dr. Lecter murmured in return, waiting until Ben’s body had relaxed and his breathing was even until he closed his eyes.

 

~

 

“Ben.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, but my hand is losing circulation.” Loosening his hold on Dr. Lecter’s hand, Ben shakily drew another breath in and forced a smile on his face.

“Sorry.”

“I’m not going to let go of you. You needn’t worry.” The doctor did his best to soothe, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of Ben’s hand. It was the last turn of their drive, the gravel crunching beneath the Jag’s tires as they pulled into the driveway of Jack and Carol Stephens, the nerves radiating from Ben’s side of the car.

“My dad...he ain’t gonna take it well, Hannibal. Straight laced an’ old fashioned.”

Pulling up to the fine, southern farmhouse, Hannibal put the car in park and killed the engine, turning to the man at his side and giving his hand a hearty squeeze as he did so.

“Benjamin. Look at me.”

Ben obeyed.

“It doesn’t matter if these people turn around and disown you. I could not care less if your father approves of me loving you, because his approval will not make me love you any less, or more. I came on this trip for you...and you alone. As far as I am concerned, the opinions of the two individuals that I am about to meet means absolutely nothing. Do you understand?”

Ben watched the rhythmic and comforting sweep of Hannibal’s thumb for a moment more before he let his diaphragm relax, shoulders sagging and head slowly nodding.

“Yeah.” Unbuckling his seat belt first, Ben leaned across the console to let his mouth meet Hannibal’s, letting himself relax in the familiar taste and feel of the doctor’s mouth and the comfort it brought to him. His forehead resting on Hannibal’s, Ben kept his eyes closed and steadied his nerves for a long minute, rallying his courage. “Alright. You ready?”

“I was born ready, Benjamin. I’ve got your back.” Hannibal grinned as the younger man pulled back, flashing him a wink. Ben laughed despite himself and reluctantly let go of Hannibal’s hand, opening his door and groaning as he stretched his legs. It was a wonder his ma hadn’t kicked down the door to get to him yet. The minute the thought crossed his mind, the porch door of the fine house swung open, Ben’s mother nearly flying as she bolted across the porch. Carol Stephens was a short woman, heavyset and with a round, smiling face. All at once Hannibal knew where Ben had received his happy, shining blue eyes from.

“Benjamin William Stephens, it is about damn time you came home.” She huffed, unable to hide the joy in her face as she hurried herself down the porch steps and swept her son up in a hug, arms thrown around his neck. Ben grunted with the impact of the woman hitting him, a grin on his face as he tightly returned the hug.

“Hey, ma. Sorry, Cali keeps me busy.”

Hannibal smiled at the reunion from where he stood beside the car, his coat slung over his forearm. He was very used to being on the outside of family affections, having not known them for the duration of his adult life. Watching from the outskirts did not bring him any discomfort.

“Decided ta come back ta the farm, boy?” A gravelly, rough voice called from the doorway to the house, two heavy work boots clomping over the worn wood and down the stairs. Ben grinned softly as he let his mother go, reaching out to shake the hand of Jack Stephens, the handshake firm but short.

“‘Fraid not, Dad. Just for a visit. Can’t say I miss the cows.”

Jack barked a quick laugh, clapping his son on the shoulder. Ben’s father looked every inch the farmer he was, suspenders slung over a stained and worn shirt, his tanned face worn with laugh lines and the corners of his eyes showing deep crows feet. Hannibal stood in silence as the three greeted each other, until his stillness drew the eye of Ben.

Clearing his throat and sidestepping another of his mother’s hugs, Ben gestured to Hannibal with a little grin.

“S’pose it would be rude not ta make introductions, huh?” He half laughed, clearing his throat as the ball of nerves in his stomach began to make itself known once more. Hannibal waited with a soft smile on his face towards Ben’s parents, ready to take Ben’s hand the moment he said the words.

“Ma, Dad... this is Dr. Gabriel Huntington. He’s my...” Ben began, watching the more than curious looks on his parents’ faces. His mother already looked slightly disappointed that Hannibal was not, in fact, a gorgeous young blonde, and his father eyed Hannibal’s fine suit and tie with a country disdain.

“He’s my psychiatrist, and a friend.” Ben blurted, unable to fight past the lump in his throat, his heart hammering loud in his chest.

His mother gasped and his father frowned, the portly woman immediately coming forward to embrace her son once more.

“Ben... you didn’t tell us!”

“He did not refrain from telling you out of spite, I can assure you. He didn’t want to worry you.” Speaking for the first time, Hannibal’s voice was quiet but firm. The unfamiliar sound drew both the eyes of Jack and Carol, a moment of silence before Ben’s mother shook herself awake.

“And where are my manners, my goodness...” She fussed at herself, moving to grab the doctor in an unexpected and tight hug, kissing both his cheeks. Hannibal’s eyes grew wide with the surprise of the hug, awkwardly patting the woman between her shoulder blades. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Huntington. Thank you for helping my baby boy.” She gushed, tears welling in her eyes.

“Ma...” Ben began to complain.

“Leave the man be, Carol. You’re breakin’ ribs.” Jack grumbled, swaggering forward after Carol had let the slightly flustered doctor go. “Many thanks, Doc. Good a’ you.” The rancher grunted, rough hand giving Hannibal’s a shake. “Fuckin’ Arabs messed with the boy’s head, tole him he shouldn't have gone over there.”

“Dad,” Ben said exasperatedly.

“That’s quite alright. Ben handled his treatment extraordinarily well. My best patient.” The doctor smiled, releasing Jack’s hand.

“My goodness, we’re all gonna catch a cold out here.” Carol interjected, rubbing her arms. “Jack, won’t you help the boys unpack? I’ll go put a pot of coffee on.” She was hustling back inside before her husband could answer, leaving the three men to haul luggage inside in silent cooperation. As they did, Ben tried hard to avoid eye contact with Hannibal as much as he could. He knew the look he was getting...and he didn’t feel like facing it. Not yet.

 

~

 

“Really, Mrs. Stephens, that’s fine.” Hannibal attempted to wave off Carol’s third attempt at refilling his coffee mug, his hand clamped tight over the top of the steaming cup of liquid. She huffed softly as his insistence but relented, filling Ben and Jack’s instead. Hannibal had choked down about as much of the incredibly strong, black coffee as he could drink, the taste a bitter one in his mouth though he drained the mug dry. Wouldn't want to appear rude barely an hour into the visit.

“So...how long you two known each other? Couple months?” Ben’s father finally asked, taking a sip of his coffee. Ben finished his own mouthful and rolled the mug between his palms, blowing out a breath.

“Say about a year. Maybe a bit longer, wouldn't ya say, Gabriel?”

“Just over a year, yes. Around that.” Hannibal nodded his agreement, looking down at the grains collected at the bottom of his mug.

“Benjamin Stephens, you’ve been seeing a doctor over a year, and you didn’t think to tell us?!” Ben’s mother gasped, narrowing her eyes into slits as she glared at her son. Ben grimaced and seem to grow smaller with the intensity of the stare.

“He’s not really a doctor, Ma.” He protested, unwilling to meet Carol’s gaze.

“My degree says otherwise,” Hannibal muttered into his mug, too quiet for the others at the table to hear.

“Good friends, huh?” Jack asked again, his eyes locked on Hannibal. The doctor looked up to meet him, and the old farmer had lived long enough to know when he was looking at a man with no fear. This was one of those times.

“Very good friends, yes,” Dr. Lecter said calmly. At his side, Ben coughed and took another swallow of coffee, burning his throat and still avoiding his mother’s glare.

“He’s...” Ben started, choked once again by the lump in his throat and drowned out by the pounding of his panicked heart. “Ma, Dad...Gabriel, and I, we’re...”

He couldn't fuckin’ do this. His Dad was gonna...he was gonna break his Mama’s heart. Ben had no idea what to say next, his mouth working but no words leaving him. Across the table his father stared, his mother watching him in honest confusion. There was no way he could tell them.

At his side, he heard a small exhale from Hannibal. Confident and sure, the doctor removed one of his palms from his mug, warm from the coffee inside, and gently laid it over Ben’s, giving it a squeeze. The touch was enough for Ben, enough to quiet his heart if only slightly, to ease the lump in his throat. His breath came easy with his next inhale, his words as sure as he meant them.

“He’s...he’s a bit more than just my friend.”

 

 


	18. Eighteen.

A pin dropping in the silence that followed would have echoed as it hit the table. The clock ticking seemed to split the air like gunshots. Hannibal’s hand did not leave Ben’s, his eyes not straying from Jack after Ben’s words had died in the air. They sat silent for a few seconds before Ben’s father pushed back from his chair without a word, the squeak of the old wood on worn linoleum loud. Leaving his coffee cup on the table, Jack stepped away from the three remaining and walked out of the kitchen, the slam of the porch door making Ben wince. Hannibal forced the anger that began to grow in his chest to quiet, channeling it through his hand and into a tighter grip around Ben’s.

The old man was lucky, extremely so, that Ben cared for him as he did. The wordless slap in the face he had just given his son was a rudeness that Hannibal could not tolerate in normal circumstances, and was only managing to do so in the current situation because of his grip on his lover’s hand. He would be exchanging words with Jack at a later date, even if Ben forbid him to. More than likely threats, and not at all hollow. Hannibal Lecter did not waste his time with hollow threats.

Ben sat still at the table, the only warmth in his body the steady heat from Hannibal’s hand. He felt as though the heat had fled the room as his father had, draining from his veins and leaving his skin dotted with goosebumps and a chill crawling along his bones. His mother still had not spoken. Now it was her turn to shun him, to order them both out of the house and dismiss Ben as her son. He was ready for it. Numbed by his father’s disownment, Ben was prepared.

Carol stood with her arms folded beneath her breasts, the same blue eyes of her son flicking between Hannibal and Ben, her brow furrowed and her mouth set in a thin, tight line. Her gaze eventually rested on the men’s entwined hands, her mouth opening to speak on a number of occasions with no sound leaving it. Eventually, she seemed to find the words that had deserted her.

“So you’re dating my Ben, doctor?”

Hannibal responded politely, his voice even. “Indeed I am, madam.”

“You love him?”

“More than I ever thought it was possible for me to love something, rather...someone.”

Ben’s mother nodded slowly, her eyes traveling up from Ben’s hand in Hannibal’s, her gaze locking with Lecter’s. He was reminded briefly of a lioness protecting her cub.

“You best be good to my boy, Dr. Huntington. Or I’ll tell ya now...we’ll have a problem. And you don’t want a problem with a South Carolina woman.”

“Yes ma’am,” Hannibal said as Ben’s shoulders sagged. The portly woman moved over to Ben as he stood, wrapping her arms tight around her son. Ben felt weak in the knees with the hug, squeezing his mother back tightly as Hannibal watched.

“I love you, Ma.”

“I love you too, Benny. Now...Dr. Huntington, if I could have a few minutes?”

Carol asked as she released Ben, hard blue eyes falling to Hannibal once more. Ben watched as he stood, seeing his quick look of concern and soothing him with a little half smile.

“Of course you may, Mrs. Stephens.”

Ben cleared his throat and slipped one hand into his pocket, thumbing back over his shoulder with the other.

“I’m gonna...head outside for a bit. You two be nice, yeah?” Before they had a chance to reply Ben was retreating towards the porch, out of the kitchen as quickly as he could and only stopping once he reached the foyer. He could see his dad’s silhouette against the screen, the warm dying summer sun slowly losing to the night’s chill. He inhaled deeply, feeling the bite of the air on the inside of his throat and lungs, stepping out onto the porch with a push of courage.

He was met by the smell of old cigarettes, a scent from his childhood that was not possible for him to forget. His father had stopped smoking when Ben had turned four, after his son had asked him to quit for his birthday present. Jack hadn’t picked up a cigarette since, and the smell still made Ben wrinkle his nose and want to cough, so unlike the expensive cigars Hannibal occasionally smoked.

“Dad?” He questioned cautiously, moving to stand beside his father. Jack gave no sign that he had heard Ben speak, taking another long pull of the apparently newly-reacquired old habit and gazing out at the pasture dotted with cattle. The end of the cigarette blazed as orange as the sun that was beginning to sink, light fading to red. Ben stood in silence beside the old man, his hands shoved in his pockets for warmth and the muffled voices of Hannibal and his mother from inside. They sounded calm, and he thought for a moment he heard laughter.

“He loves me, Dad.” Ben spoke again, looking over at his father’s face to try and pick up any expression, any sort of chance in his composure at all. There was nothing. “Dad...I mean it. I ain’t never been loved like this. I didn’t pick this, hell, I didn't even...” Ben half-laughed, pulling a hand out to rub the back of his neck.

“I didn’t even know I was gay until he came along. Just stopped noticin’ anybody

else but him. Funny how that works, huh? Everybody else just kinda faded out. I know this came right outta left field and it ain’t easy for you...But I’m happy, Dad. He makes me happy. I love him.”

Ben’s outpouring was met with stoic silence, another drag on the cigarette. Finishing the one he held in his mouth, Jack flicked the butt away onto the dirt and withdrew another from the pack in his pocket, a lighter from the other before flicking it on. Ben felt a horrible weight in his chest begin to drag him down, a quick swallow before he straightened his shoulders and blew out a breath. Anger flooded him swiftly, bringing heat back to his veins. Why the fuck did he have to explain himself to his old man? He was fuckin’ happy, shouldn't have ta beg for approval. Hannibal had said it himself.. their approval meant nothing. Hannibal was still gonna love him, even if his dad decided to be a prick.

“You know what? Fuck you.” Ben suddenly spat, stepping in front of his father to stare at his face. Jack’s expression never faltered, the same blank look as he stared through Ben at the ranch, smoke curling up from his mouth.

“Fuck you. What the fuck have I ever done wrong? Worked really fucking hard to get where I am, saw some pretty fucked up shit. You know that. Bitch about me needing to find somebody all the time, now you’re pissed cause I picked somebody who don’t got a set a’ tits? Huh? No, that’s not even right. I didn’t pick him. We just ran into each other, and now I love him. Make you proud to know your son’s a faggot?” Ben hissed, his vision slightly blurred. He battled back the furious tears before they could start and roared in his father’s face.

“Gonna go tell all your buddies about your cocksucker of a son, Dad? Make you proud to say your kid’s a homo? Man...fuck you.” Ben spat, fists clenched at his sides. If his father said something...anything, he could have hit him. His hands were clenched and ready, arm halfway up. He could have knocked that stupid fucking cancer stick out of that old prick’s teeth, walked back into the house, grabbed Hannibal and driven home. But he didn’t.

Ben stood there for a full minute, waiting, before he turned and strode back into the house. The anger was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving him cold and defeated. His eyes were dry as he entered the kitchen, a smile on his face that he knew Hannibal looked through like glass as he saw his mother and the doctor talking.

“Hey, dinner ready yet? I’m starving.” Ben laughed, a little smile from Carol.

“Well goodness, I may have to let Dr. Huntington cook tonight, from what he’s been telling me.”

Ben’s father did not come in for dinner. The fried chicken, mashed potatoes served with gravy, and collard greens were picked over with only the clink of silverware on china, Ben’s mother stewing in voiceless concern over Ben’s lack of reaction to his favorite dinner. Ben’s father’s chair remained empty as the three occupants of the dinner table ate in silence, the occasional attempt at small talk falling flat within minutes. Ben had no appetite and Hannibal noticed, every few moments flicking a look at his partner. Ben stared at his plate with a hollow look on his face, one that did nothing to quiet the beast in the doctor’s ribcage. Hannibal didn’t know exactly what had been said on the porch, but both he and Carol had heard Ben’s muffled shouts. If Jack had said anything to him, even a word, Hannibal would gut him. Ben’s father or not, such blatant rudeness, absolutely abhorrent treatment, earned him a placement lower than worms in Hannibal’s mind. And he hated rude people.

 

~

 

“Now, I made you boys up separate room when you came, but...”

“That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Stephens.” Hannibal kindly interjected, his arm wrapped loosely around Ben’s waist. He had followed the younger man like a shadow since after dinner, concern growing with every glance Ben ignored.

“Oh, that’s alright. Less laundry to do.” Carol smiled warmly. The woman certainly was putting in an effort to make the two feel at home, though anyone could see that it would take some time for her to adjust to the duo’s relationship. That was alright with him. She had the rest of her life to adjust.

“Shall I go and strip the other bed?” Hannibal was already moving to the other bedroom, catching the none-too subtle look from Mrs. Stephens as she glanced at her son.

Waiting until Hannibal had left, Ben let out a sigh and folded his arms over his chest, already missing the security of the other man’s arms around him.

“Ma, ya been eyein’ me like a hawk for forty-five minutes. What?”

The older woman sighed as she and Ben stepped into the bedroom, the bed neatly made up, Ben’s and Hannibal’s bags on the floor.

“Benjamin, don’t think I didn’t hear you with your father.”

Ben shrugged a shoulder.

“What about it?” Turning to her son, Carol reached up to gently place her weathered palms on his cheeks, meeting his eyes with her own.

“Don’t condemn him just yet, Ben. I’ll talk with him tonight, okay?” Ben nodded as much as he could with his face trapped, sighing gently.

“Ain’t gonna change his mind none. Okay.”

Carol smiled and leaned to kiss Ben’s cheek, patting his opposite one as she let him go. A quiet rap on the door had mother and son turning to see the rather sheepish looking Dr. Lecter in the doorway, folded sheets and comforter in his arms.

“Oh doctor...my goodness, you didn’t need to fold those.”

“That’s quite alright, Mrs. Stephens. I do hope I didn’t interrupt-”

“Didn’t interrupt a damn thing, Gabriel. Time to turn in, ya reckon?” Ben cut in suddenly, forcing a smile on his face. Hannibal eyed it before nodding his agreement.

“Yes, I think so. It has been an incredibly long day.”

 

~

 

It took another hour for Mrs. Stephens to leave the two men alone, checking back in every few minutes to ask them if they needed anything, until Ben had to resort to locking the door with the excuse of changing.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” The younger man muttered after Carol had finally retreated, slipping into bed after donning boxers and a loose t-shirt. Hannibal frowned towards his partner before pulling Ben’s AC/DC tee over his head, slipping into the creaky old bed beside him.

“That’s quite alright. Southern hospitality is appreciated.” The doctor remarked, his brow hiking further as Ben clicked off the light and rolled over, facing away from him. Sliding to lay with his chest flush to Ben’s back, Hannibal laid his arm around the younger man’s middle and spoke softly in his ear.

“Benjamin.”

Ben muttered unintelligibly in response, though he did roll over to nestle into the doctor’s chest. Hannibal wrapped his arms tightly around his lover, one hand reaching to gently stroke Ben’s hair.

“He’ll come around, mio amore.”

“No he won’t. He’s more stubborn than I am,” Ben mumbled, eyes shut tight and breathing in the comforting scent of Hannibal’s cologne. It was a smell that could usually wash the stress of the day away, but tonight...it wasn’t quite cutting it.

“He will. He’s your father.” Hannibal spoke reassuringly, dipping his head to feather kisses over Ben’s face. The younger man sighed softly and allowed the kisses, but did not respond. “My Benjamin. I love you so.”

“Love you too.” Ben said softly, dropping his face once more to burrow into Hannibal’s chest. Dr. Lecter nosed at his temple, nipped his ear, kissed his cheek, vainly trying to incite a response. Even just a “go away” would have been counted as a success. Benjamin was not the silent type, he was the type to very loudly say what was on his mind, or let his body say it for him. This kind of dullness was enough to worry Hannibal, and that was no simple task.

“You know what I would do for you?”

“You ain’t killin’ him.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“Bullshit.” Hannibal shushed Ben’s curse with a kiss, hands smoothing over his broad back and willing the younger man to sleep. Long after his body had gone limp, as he had done in the hotel, Hannibal stayed awake and whispered sweet nothings into Ben’s ear. His worry was still present in his dreams.

 

 


	19. Nienteen.

When the two men entered the kitchen the next morning, Ben couldn't help but grin at the slightest look of disapproval on Hannibal’s face at the strong scent of grease, the homemade sausage crackling and sizzling in the pan. The doctor, as much as he insisted otherwise, had never learned to get a taste for the “lower end” side of food, always looking down upon Ben’s beloved greasy burgers or deep-fried meals. But his distaste towards the bacon, sausage, eggs and hashbrowns was quickly overshadowed by the looming presence of Ben’s father, once more present at the dinner table.

Ben and Jack did not make eye contact throughout the meal, Ben seated at Hannibal’s side and across from his father. Grunts and nods of acknowledgement were the only communication between the two men as they passed food back and forth. Carol and Hannibal exchanged a brief look but did nothing to further provoke the tension that hung in the air, thick enough it seemed almost a weight on everyone’s shoulders.

Cutting through his sausage, Hannibal daintily popped a piece in his mouth and chewed past gristle, swallowing while withholding a grimace under Carol’s watchful eye. Clearing his throat and chasing the mouthful with a sip of water, Hannibal’s voice was quiet as he spoke.

“May I have the salt, please?” He asked politely, hands folded in his lap. As Carol reached to oblige him and pass the small shaker, Jack looked up from his plate for the first time during the meal and spoke in a gruff voice.

“Don’t like my wife’s cookin’ there, Doctor?” He rumbled, setting down his fork and staring over at the doctor. Hannibal tightened his jaw a fraction, smiling thinly and taking a moment to formulate a reply that would not further tensions between Ben and his father. Carol set the shaker down before turning with a speed that no one would have expected, landing a short smack on her husband’s arm.

“Jack Stephens, no there’s no place for manners like that at my table.” She chided, Jack’s face curving into a rather sadistic grin.

“Hell, Carol. I’m just givin’ the city boy here a hard time,” he guffawed, picking up his fork once more and shoving a mouthful of hashbrowns into his mouth. Relaxing his shoulders slightly, Hannibal smiled and nodded his thanks towards Carol, sprinkling a tad of salt on his eggs before continuing to eat.

Ben finished mere moments after Hannibal, chugging down the last of his coffee and giving his trim stomach a short pat.

“Delicious as always, Ma. Think I’ll be showin’ Gabriel round the ranch today...get him acquainted an’ all. We’ll be around.” Ben spoke hastily, standing up and earning a look from Hannibal, who followed shortly.

“Oh, of course. You boys go have fun, and I’ll put lunch on this afternoon. Be careful, please?” Ben grabbed Hannibal’s hand and practically dragged the doctor towards the door, waving over his shoulder as he called his reply.

“Always am, Ma.”

Outside the house in the humid heat of the yard, Hannibal walked along at Ben’s side and muttered softly. “We could have helped clear the table.”

Ben looked over at him and snorted, shaking his head before properly lacing his fingers with the doctor’s. “No thanks. Needed a bit a’ air.”

Hannibal sighed, smoothing his thumb over the back of the younger man’s hand as he allowed him to lead him. Ben seemed better today, less stressed, though his fitful sleep showed in the shadows beneath his eyes. The sandy-haired man was dressed in a loose plaid button-up, untucked from his faded jeans and his feet clad with worn cowboy boots. He was deliciously handsome in his rugged apparel, the doctor marveled, night and day in comparison to Hannibal’s crisp white shirt, his black slacks and expensive loafers adorning his feet. He hadn’t packed for a ranch.

“You look good in that shirt.” Dr. Lecter quipped as Ben led him towards the barn. The younger man grinned, letting go of Hannibal’s hand to place an affectionate swat on his rear.

“Thanks. And you look like you’re lost.” He laughed, a sound Hannibal was happy to hear. Rolling his eyes good naturedly, the doctor grumbled as they entered the barn, the strong scent of cow manure and old straw filling his nose.

“Well, you didn’t warn me otherwise.”

“I didn’t think that a cattle ranch needed a warnin’.” Ben teased, the bleating of calves in their stalls filling the air, Hannibal’s eyes squinting slightly with the force of the smell. “Ya get used ta the smell. Ain’t that bad, really. Kinda homey.”

“Benjamin, your idea of a comforting smell and mine are infinitely different.” The doctor muttered, withdrawing a handkerchief from his pocket to press briefly over his mouth and nose. Ben laughed all the harder at the sight of the doctor’s distress, beckoning him with a wave of his hand.

“Alright, alright. Just wanted ta show ya the barn. Got about 8000 cattle in the pastures right now, keepin’ the sick little ones in here. Easier ta bottle-feed em’.” Ben explained, stopping beside a stall and gesturing inside. Hannibal looked to where he pointed, nodding at the sight of the small black calf standing and staring at them both.

“Cute, ain’t he?” Ben said with a grin. Hannibal began to nod his agreement before the calf’s tongue slid out of its mouth and into its nostril, the little animal blinking in indifference. Hannibal recoiled slightly, an expression of disgust instantly upon his face as he took a step back.

“That is...revolting.” Ben boomed a laugh as he leaned over to kiss Hannibal’s cheek, chuckling low as he shook his head.

“It grows on ya faster than you’d think.”

“I think that I’ll pass, thank you,” Hannibal muttered, quickly following Ben as they exited the barn. He inhaled the scent of fresh air deeply, catching the slightest whiff of the barn that was still on his clothes. He’d have to throw these out when they returned home... what a shame.

“Like horses, sweets?” Ben asked, the little nickname earning a snort from Hannibal. He never tired of teasing his doctor. It helped distract his mind from things he didn’t like to think about for too long, yesterday one of them. Today had been better...but only slightly.

“I dare you to call me that again. And I’m fond of them, yes. My family had a Clydesdale when I was a boy. Cesar.” The doctor replied matter-of-factly, following Ben as they approached another set of paddocks. The younger man smiled before putting two fingers to his mouth and letting out a long, loud whistle, the sound of hooves on hard packed ground thundering closer. Six horses galloped over the hill at the sound of Ben’s whistle, all stopping once they had reached the fence. Ben grinned, gesturing to a bucket of oats beside the fence before looking up at Hannibal.

“Wanna help me feed em’, then?” Hannibal smiled, grabbing the bucket.

“Of course.” It had been a long time since he had hand-fed a horse, the memory of a velvety muzzle brushing his palm bringing back snippets of the hunting lodge, Cesar, watching the big horse pull his family’s wagon. Ben watched as the doctor’s eyes glazed with memory, setting his hand to the older man’s side and leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“I love you.” He said quietly, turning Hannibal's attention from the horses.

The doctor’s face softened with the tone of Ben’s words, his arm looping around his waist and pulling him closer.

“As I love you.” He said in earnest, pressing his lips gently to Ben’s.

“Hey, city boy!” A shout from the opposite side of the yard broke the kiss, Hannibal’s arm staying tight around Benjamin as Jack walked closer, hands shoved into his pockets and a cowboy hat perched atop his head.

“Hannibal, don’t fight him. Alright?” Ben whispered urgently, before stepping back and out of the doctor’s grasp, arms crossing over his chest.

“I said hey, city boy,” Ben’s father said, nearing the two men and eyeing the horses. “Dressed a little fancy for the farm, ain’t ya?”

“I’m sorry to say that this is my casual wear, Mr. Stephens.” Hannibal said cooly, an exhale from Ben. “I came overdressed.”

“Did you ever.” Jack barked a short laugh, hiking his pants up and hocking a blob of phlegm on the ground to Hannibal’s right. It was something he never did, Ben knew, and was only doing now to try and piss off the doctor more. It was working.

Hannibal smiled thinly.

“Was there something you needed?”

“Matter of fact, yer right,” Jack said scratching the stubble covering his cheek. “Two a’ my hired hands took the day off, and the cows need ta be brought in. Reckon you boys could lend me a hand.”

“I don’t think that’s-” Ben interjected, stepping forward.

“We would love to. Right, Ben?” Hannibal cut him off, he and Jack’s eyes locked.

“Perfect. Saddle up and I’ll see ya in fifteen.” Jack grinned, spitting once more before turning on his heel and walking away.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ben hissed, jabbing a finger into Hannibal’s chest as soon as his father was out of earshot. Hannibal quirked a brow, straightening his shirt.

“Nothing is, Benjamin. I offered to lend a hand.”

“Do you even know how to ride a horse?” Ben asked, trailing after Hannibal as the doctor began walking towards the barn. “And the saddles are the other way, dumbass.”

Hannibal turned and began heading the opposite direction, never missing a stride.

“Of course I know how to ride a horse. Who doesn’t?” Hannibal rolled his eyes, waiting until Ben opened the door to the tack room.

“Most people.” Ben sighed, scrubbing his face with his hands as he watched the doctor fumble with a saddle and bridle. “Hannibal...”

“Benjamin, please. I am not a child. I’m fully capable of handling myself in a situation an elementary as this one.” Hannibal reassured, lifting a saddle off its rest and holding it in his arms. “Besides. How difficult could it be?”

 

~

 

“So, wanna tell me when the last time you rode was?” Ben asked as he and Hannibal led their respective mounts towards the pasture, both saddled and ready. Hannibal, after nearly 10 minutes of fumbling and muted curses, had allowed Ben to saddle his horse. He was a bit rusty, he’d admit.

“Not that long ago,” Hannibal spoke without looking at Ben, the reins dangling loose in his hands.

“Hannibal.”

“When I was 6.”

“Jesus Christ. I’m not letting you do this.” Ben sucked in a breath, groaning on his exhale. “You’re gonna bust somethin’.”

“Was that a reference to my age? And yes, you are.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Get lost, city boy?” Jack’s taunt from the pasture raised the temperature of Hannibal’s blood, his jaw set as Ben reluctantly opened the gate and let them both in.

“‘Bout time. Hurry up, boys. I got a lotta shit ta get done today, and this shouldn't take long.”

“Hannibal-” Ben started to whisper, urgency in his voice. Hannibal ignored him., rummaging through his memories to recall the ease with which he had once rode Cesar. One loafered foot in the stirrup and hauling himself off the ground, Hannibal swung his body into the saddle and gathered the reins in hand, much to the shock of both Ben and Jack. The smug smirk was one he couldn't help, even if he had wanted to.

“What’s the hold up, gentlemen?” He smiled, earning unintelligible grunts from the owo other men, who quickly mounted the horses and readied themselves. Jack took off first at a gallop, Ben checking back over his shoulder before easing his horse into a trot. Hannibal applied pressure to the horses sides, readying himself for movement, and...nothing. The mare blew a breath out and stood stock still.

“She’s a stubborn one...just gotta kick er’ a bit.” Ben called, circling back.

“Right, right...I knew that,” Hannibal muttered, feeling Jack’s eyes on him before delivering a sharp kick to the sides of the horse. Her back beneath him humped up, his eyes widening before the mare’s back hooves left the ground and she began to buck.

“BAIL, HA-GABRIEL! BAIL!”

Ben hollered over the sound of blood rushing in Hannibal’s ears as he held on, the horse beneath him bound and determined to rid itself of its rider. Clutching at the reigns as the mare bucked and bolted, the doctor clung to the saddle-horn and held on for dear life.

“Hot diggity dog, lookit him go!” Sitting beside Ben and roaring with laughter, Jack watched the finely dressed doctor flail on the back of the mare, waiting until the inevitable dismount and hard impact to the ground. Cursing loudly, Ben jumped off his horse and ran in the direction of Hannibal, far outpaced by the stubborn mare. His heart pounding in his ears, panic filling his veins, Ben watched as Hannibal was nearly pitched off once, twice, before the doctor set himself in his stirrups and heaved on the reins, the horse all at once settling down.

There was silence in the pasture for a moment, the doctor panting to catch his breath, Jack staring in shock, Ben standing at the side of the horse.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Doc. This is exactly why I didn’t-”

“I told you...” Hannibal cut him off with a wide grin, his chest heaving though adrenaline shone in his eyes. “I _told_ you I knew how to ride.”

 

 


	20. Twenty.

His teeth clamped around the pillow on his and Ben’s bed, Hannibal’s hands fisted in the sheets in attempt not to cry out.

“I’m goin’ slow as I can, here, Hannibal...”

“Be gentle.” The doctor hissed.

“Well ya ain’t helpin’ when you’re all tensed up. You just gotta relax and let me work.”

Hannibal rolled his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep inhale through his nose and will his body to relax. Yes, it hurt...but it would fade into pleasure. That’s what Ben had assured him, and so that’s what he believed.

Working the heels of his palms along the doctor’s shoulders followed by squarely in the middle of his back, Ben grimaced at the numerous knots beneath his hands, the silent hisses of pain from Hannibal. Prolonged hours of horseback riding could be killer on the muscles to someone who wasn’t used to it, and Hannibal sure as hell wasn’t used to it. The poor man was so sore he moved as though he was eighty, even three days later. Hard physical labour that Ben’s father had insisted upon hadn’t helped; bales thrown and water hauled wreaked havoc on Hannibal’s shoulders, arms, and back. It did help, however, that Ben was all too eager to get the doctor into bed and start working on his knotted muscles.

“So, do ya reckon this trip was worth it?” Ben asked as he gently dug his knuckles into the soft flesh of Hannibal’s broad back, on either side of his spine. The doctor relaxed slightly with the tenderness of the touch, blowing out a breath over the pillow as he adjusted it beneath his chin.

“I don’t believe it was in vain, no. Your mother is a lovely woman,” Hannibal said, Ben’s strong, warm hands on his bare back bringing a sigh to his lips. Ben noticed the blatant disregard towards his father but didn’t say anything, letting his thumbs work along the length of Hannibal’s spine.

“He’ll come around, Benjamin.” The doctor said suddenly, surprising the younger man.

“What makes ya say that?”

“Because he loves you. Even with all of his snide comments and his effort to break me with all that unnecessary labour, - both mentally and physically - I could see that he still loves you.”

“You freak me out when ya do that whole “I know everything” thing,” Ben muttered.

“It’s not knowing everything, it’s being able to observe more than others.” Hannibal corrected, sighing gently. “Just a little higher, to the right.”

Ben listened and let his hands slide higher, his expression thoughtful as he shifted on Hannibal’s back. “We’ll see.”

“Yes, I imagine we will. Goodbyes always tend to bring out the honesty in people.”

 

~

 

“Are you sure you remembered everything, you two?” Carol questioned in concern, flitting back and forth between Ben and Hannibal as they loaded the car.

“Ma, I’m sure. Honest. Gabriel made sure we didn’t miss anything.”

“Like your phone, two of your shirts, and a pair of your jeans under the bed.” Hannibal quipped as he placed another bag into the trunk, earning a roll of the eyes from Ben.

“I was gonna go back for those.”

“I have no doubt.”

Carol smiled at the banter between the two, wiping her hands on her apron out of habit and blowing out a breath. Jack stood off to the right of the three, a piece of grass clamped between his teeth as he leaned against the wall of the house and watched the perfectly groomed doctor load the car. There was still a tension between Ben and him, an invisible wall that neither of them knew how to climb. Hannibal knew Ben well enough that he would try at least one last time to scale it, before giving up and letting his father go. If he could have a say in it... that wouldn't happen.

“Dr. Huntington, you just hold on. I have a few jars of pickles I’ll throw in with you, too.”

“Madam, that’s quite alright. I would hate to deprive you.” Hannibal began to protest, hushed by a wave of Carol’s hand as she turned to march back into the house.

“None of that, now. Come on, you can help me carry it to the car.”

Ben laughed at the helpless look on Hannibal’s face, leaning against the glossy black hood of the Jag.

“Best be listenin’ to her, Gabriel. She won’t let us leave without half a trunk full of food.” With a sigh of defeat Hannibal trudged after her, muttering his displeasure unintelligibly as he climbed the steps of the porch and disappeared back into the house. Ben busied himself with loading the remainder of the bags into the spacious trunk of the car, avoiding any and all eye contact with his father.

Jack clomped down the porch steps and across the gravel driveway towards the car, pulling the piece of grass from his mouth and letting it fall onto the ground. Ben reorganized bags, packed them in tighter, shifted them around, anything to kill time until Hannibal and his mother returned.

“Doesn’t take that long ta pack six bags, Ben.” Jack remarked, leaning up against the side of the car.

“Uhhhum,” Ben mumbled, his eyes not lifting from the trunk.

Jack sighed, lifting a hand to run it through his grey hair, letting it fall to rub the back of his neck.

“Ben,” he said.

Ben closed his eyes from where they were hidden behind the trunk, his hands pausing in their movements. He didn’t say anything.

“Ben, please look at me,” Jack continued, a new note in his voice.

The hope that had been welling in Ben’s chest wanted to think it was sincerity, but wariness prevailed.

“What?” He finally asked, stepping out from behind the car and locking eyes with his father. “You ignore me for over a week, and now ya want ta talk? Time’s up, Dad.”

“I don’t got any more time than this,” Jack said, his eyes falling from Ben’s to rest on his shoes. “I need ya ta listen ta me.”

Ben laughed, short and bitter, shaking his head. “I needed you to listen to me, too. Ten fucking days ago, I needed you to listen more than anything. But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t know how.” Jack blurted, his eyes desperate. Ben’s jaw tightened and the same odd lump in his throat arose again, making words difficult.

“Ben, I...this came...right outta left field for me,” Jack said slowly, careful around the raw edges of Ben’s hurt.

“Yeah, well. Oh well.” Ben’s voice was icy with a callousness he didn’t mean.

“I still love you, you know that.”

“Really? Coulda damn well fooled me, Dad.”

“Don’t do that. I’m tryin’ my best, here.” Jack pleaded, running his hand through his hair in frustration once more. Ben sucked on his lower lip for a moment, looking off at nothing over his father’s shoulder before he nodded.

“Alright,” he finally said.

“I never...I never guessed that you’d...ya know...” His father struggled for the right words.

“That I’d fall in love with a guy?” Ben offered dully.

“Yeah. Yeah, that.” Jack blew out a breath. “I mean...I was always thinkin’ you’d find yourself a lady and give me and your momma grandbabies.”

“We’ve adopted already, Dad. This is 2014.” Ben sighed.

“Alright, hell. Let’s tackle one thing at a time.” His father croaked. “So...I didn't handle it very well. Didn’t know how ta. I didn’t...didn’t know what ta say ta ya, Ben.” The old man offered, suddenly looking decades older to Ben. The lines etched into his father’s face pulled at something in his chest, a deep breath sucked in as his own gaze fell to his feet.

“I didn’t mean what I said, you know.”

“I know ya didn’t. And Ben, ya know what?” Jack’s voice gathered strength. “You know what, I am damn proud of you. You done a lot more in this life than most people, and if you wanna spend your life with him, cause he makes ya happy...then ya deserve that happiness. I’m proud of ya. Damn proud.” Jack choked out. “And if ya think for a minute that I’m gonna stop braggin’ about my boy ta all the old farts in town just cause he’s happy with somebody I didn't see comin’, you’re dead wrong.”

Ben listened and soaked in all of the words his father spoke, his eyes slowly lifting from the gravel ground before him to meet Jack’s. There was a little half smile on his face when he spoke.

“Shit, Dad...I’m tryna be pissed at ya, here.”

Jack laughed despite himself and stepped forward, his hand outstretched for a shake. Ben looked at it for a moment before walking towards the older man and past the hand, wrapping him up on a bone-crushing hug and holding on.

“Love you, Dad.” Ben managed, words that were not easy to get out.

Jack stood in shock for a moment at the hug before his own arms wound around Ben’s midsection and squeezed, hot tears pricking at his eyes and blinked away swiftly before they could fall.

“I love you too, kid.”

“And Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Totally kidding about the adopting thing.”

“Thank Jesus, Mary, and Joseph...”

The sound of a throat being loudly cleared broke the two men quickly apart, Hannibal walking out of the house with his arms full of various canned goods, Carol on his heel with her arms empty and smile shining.

“Ma! I thought you said a couple jars of pickles?” Ben asked, jogging off to help the staggering doctor.

“She changed her mind and decided to give me her pantry.” Hannibal complained semi-jokingly as Ben took a few of the jars. Eyes quickly flicking to the younger man’s face, Hannibal scanned it and saw a lightness there that had been absent when he had left. The worry that had hung over his heart since their arrival dissipated at last.

“Oh, you hush now. That should keep you boys well-fed until we have a chance to visit.” She gushed, hurrying over to oversee the remainder of the packing and make sure that no jars would be jostled.

“Alright. I believe that’s everything.” Hannibal closed the trunk and dusted his palms, a quick little exhale before his eyes fell to Ben.

“Yep, think so,” Ben said, wrapping his mother up in a final hug. “Bye, Ma. Thanks for everything.”

“Hey, cit-Gabriel.” Jack called to Hannibal, striding forward with his hand outstretched. Hannibal shook it firmly.

“Just wanted ta say...” Jack began awkwardly as he let the doctor’s hand go, searching for the right words. “I wish you and my boy the best. You be good to him.”

“Mr. Stephens, there is nothing I want to do more than just that. Thank you.” Hannibal said politely, showing a genuine smile towards Ben’s father for the first time during the trip.

“Alright, Gabriel. We better head out ‘er before it gets dark.” Ben teased, earning a roll of the eyes from Hannibal.

“Says the one who wants to stop at every gas station...”

 

~

 

Though curiosity was burning in his stomach at just what had transpired between Ben and his father, Hannibal stayed quiet as they drove and did not ask. If Ben wanted to tell him, he would. For now, the younger man was tucking into a package of beef jerky that Carol had packed, his feet up on the dash and the radio on.

“So, want to know our next trip?” Hannibal quipped cheerily, Ben not glancing up from his package of jerky.

“Hmmph?” He mumbled with his mouthful.

“We get to go meet my parents!”

“Nice try. Not goin’ to a graveyard.” Ben spoke, earning a little grin from Hannibal.

“You’re no fun. My mother would have adored you.”

“My momma was half in love with you by the time we left, Hannibal. It’s a mother thing.” Ben grinned.

Hannibal smiled in return, reaching across the console to find Ben’s hand and lace his fingers with his. There was no other hand, not in the past, nor future, that he ever wanted to hold.


	21. Twenty-One.

The Chateau d'Yquem was warm on Dr. Lecter’s tongue as he took a sip, the taste heady and pleasant as it slid down his throat. It was hard to think of anything as unpleasant with his body so lax and sated, seated on one of his and Ben’s bedroom’s overstuffed chairs and watching the younger man sleep. It was not yet evening, the sun only now beginning to dip in the sky, but Ben had experienced a long day. Hannibal allowed him sleep in peace and did not disturb him. Ben's work day, the shower the two men had shared, and the long, affectionate tangling of sheets afterwards had exhausted the last of the poor man’s energy. He had been resting for over an hour now, sprawled out nude on his stomach with his hands slid up under his pillow, the white sheet draped over his backside and his thighs.

The weeks seemed to pass faster than Dr. Lecter was aware, days running into each other without his knowledge. It was one of Ben’s many talents, to make Hannibal forget that time was indeed passing. It was easy to forget about time altogether when he was with Ben, but in quiet moments like this, he could think. Over a year and a half he had spent with this man. The longest period of time in Hannibal’s adult life he had shared with someone, the only intimate relationship he had cared to pursue. It was strange, wonderful, heavenly and frustrating all at the same time, a potent concoction of mixed emotions and physical feelings that the doctor was quite sure that he could not live without.

Ben snored softly, bringing a smile to Hannibal’s lips as he finished the last of his wine. His mind in the weeks following his and Ben’s visit to the latter’s parents had been heavy with contemplation, a fact the younger man liked to frequently complain about. Dr. Lecter dealt with Ben’s concern good-naturedly, silenced with the usual kiss. He found himself enjoying the worry that Ben harboured, a guilty pleasure that his subconscious reveled in. It was wonderful, refreshing to be cared for so deeply that you inspired worry in another being. It was wonderful to be loved.

Setting his wine glass down on the table beside the chair, Hannibal rose from his seat and stretched, pleasant reminders of he and Ben’s lovemaking echoing in his muscles and in his heart. Adjusting the collar of his deep red button-down, sleeves up to his elbows and untucked from his slacks, Dr. Lecter took a seat at the edge of the bed and contented himself to simply watch Ben for a moment longer, marveling at the peace in which the other man slept. Tentatively reaching out his hand, Hannibal gently set it to Ben’s shoulder and admired the muscle definition beneath his palm.

“Little ta the left.” Ben’s voice, deepened with remnants of sleep, brought Hannibal’s eyes up and a smile to his mouth. He obeyed wordlessly, rubbing gently to the left and earning a sigh of contentment from Ben.

“Perfect.” The younger man grunted, his eyes sliding closed once again. Hannibal ceased his rubbing to lean down and press his lips to Ben’s temple, his voice soft as he spoke.

“Would you do me the honour of accompanying me to dinner?” He murmured, letting his lips brush down to Ben’s cheek.

“Hell, ya mean it ain't breakfast yet?” Ben chuckled low, smiling with the doctor’s affection as he cracked open an eye. “Would love to. Where?”

“I was thinking, perhaps...Seaside Eats?” Ben grinned with the memories the place summoned, of he and Hannibal before...everything.

“I’m thinkin’ I like that plan, doctor a’ mine. Only downside...guess this means I gotta get dressed, huh?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Though I have no doubt that the majority of diners would appreciate the sight of you naked, I’m not quite willing to share.”

“Hot when you’re possessive.”

“Thank you.”

Hannibal sat back and watched as Ben slithered out of bed and yawned, trundling over towards his discarded clothes on the floor. He paused as he bent over to pick them up, holding the crumpled garments in his hands.

“This a suit and tie sorta thing?”

“Benjamin... wear something that you like. An outfit you’ll remember.” Ben cocked a brow at the doctor’s words, walking to rummage through his dresser. The statement struck him as odd, but he didn’t say anything, picking out his favorite Ramone’s t-shirt and a faded pair of old blue jeans. Hannibal watched him silently as he dressed, admiring the bunching and release of muscle, the body of the man he was lucky enough to call his.

“Ready?” Ben asked minutes later, once Hannibal had tucked in his shirt and donned a simple black tie. The doctor nodded, extending his hand to Ben and waiting until the younger man laced his fingers with his own and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I am.”

~

 

Some time later, seated at their customary table in the corner, Ben poked and prodded across the table at Hannibal’s plate as the doctor watched, bemused.

“So this is calamari, huh?” Ben asked suspiciously, holding up a piece on his fork and eyeing it with a squint. Hannibal smiled, taking a sip from his glass of wine.

“Yes. It’s quite good. You’ll like it.”

“You ain’t supposed ta eat shit with tentacles.”

“I promise you that what’s on your fork isn’t shit. It’s squid. Try it, Ben.”

The younger man grumbled softly but popped the piece into his mouth and chewed, his face screwed up as though he was expecting a horrid taste. Hannibal watched as the expression slowly faded, replaced with slight surprise.

“And?”

“Ain’t bad.” Ben wiped the corner of his mouth before stabbing another piece off of Hannibal's plate. “Ain’t bad at all. ‘Course anything fried is usually good.”

Hannibal smiled and let Ben raid his dinner plate, his elbows rested on the table and hands folded beneath his chin. The dinner had gone quieter than normal, no banter exchanged between the two, an easy silence that they normally shared weighted with something else. It was easy to tell when Hannibal had something on his mind, at a time like this.

Ben could feel the doctor’s eyes on him as he ate, but knew better than to say anything. He’d tell him whatever he was thinking when the time was best. Ben trusted Hannibal to tell him the truth, even if it took a little bit longer for the doctor to get it out. Hannibal had made him a promise, and it was one Ben had faith that the doctor kept. Didn’t mean it didn't drive him absolutely fuckin’ insane when Hannibal got all quiet and broody like this.

“Finished?” The doctor asked abruptly, shocking Ben out of his thoughts.

“Er... yeah, guess I am. Ready ta head home, then?”

“Not quite yet. Will you walk with me? Along the beach?”

Ben stared at Hannibal for a long moment, regarding the doctor as though he’d grown a second head. “Thought ya didn't like beach walks,” he remarked cautiously.

Hannibal casually shrugged a shoulder before polishing off his wine and setting the glass down, signalling for the bill.

“In the evening they’re quite nice. Quiet. Not many people around. I love the beach, it’s the people that grow tiresome.”

“Oooookay...” Ben relaxed back in his seat and the waitress swung by, waiting as Hannibal pulled out his wallet. Somethin’ was up with the doctor tonight, anybody could see that. Could be something good, could be something bad...that was the frustrating part. Ben wouldn't have a fuckin’ clue until Hannibal finally opened up and spilled the beans. Drove him nuts. As did everything else Hannibal did.

 

~

 

“Sure is pretty out tonight, huh?” Ben remarked as he and Hannibal walked along the beach, shoes left in the car and the sand cool beneath their bare feet. The sun was dying, bleeding its red across the darkening sky and reflecting over the ocean. The beach was mostly deserted, a bonfire bright in the distance, some beachgoers still packing up their things. It really was a gorgeous night, the walk timed at a point in the twilight that was perfect.

“Mhmmm,” Hannibal said in agreement, his heart beating faster than normal. Ben’s hand, normally warm in his, seemed almost hot. His senses were magnified and set to notice the littlest thing. Though his face showed otherwise, the interior of Hannibal’s chest churned with everything besides the feeling of calm.

“Alright, Hannibal...you gotta know you’re killin’ me here,” Ben finally said, stopping their walk on the sand and giving the doctor a level, serious look. “What’s up?”

“Hmmm? Why would anything be up? Nothing’s up,” Hannibal responded just a bit too quickly, turning and pulling Ben after him to continue the stroll. Ben furrowed his brow as he was tugged, following after the doctor with an exasperated look on his face.

“Hannibal...please. Ya know I hate this.”

“Nothing is up, Benjamin. I just want to enjoy a walk with my love...is that too much to ask?” Hannibal said without looking at Ben, his hand tightening just a smidge around Ben’s. The younger man walked in silence for a bit, blowing out a long breath before stopping and letting go of Hannibal’s hand.

“Hannibal...”

The doctor stopped with the absence of Ben’s hand in his, turning in the sand to face the image of Ben standing solid with his arms folded over his chest.

“Yes?”

“Ya made me a promise, once upon a time. Remember what that was?”

Hannibal’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, shrugging one shoulder.

“I’ve made you a variety of promises, Benjamin. And I’ve kept them all.”

Ben nodded once.

“Yeah, on both counts. Save one. Ya promised me...not too long ago, that you’d never lie ta me again. So don’t fuck me like ya haven’t seen me in weeks, tell me ya love me, take me ta dinner and then act like nothin’s up. Cause that, Hannibal...that’s a lie,” Ben said firmly, watching Hannibal’s face in the dying light. The doctor sighed softly and dug his hands into his pockets, sucking in a deep inhale before he spoke.

“You’re right.”

“I know that. Now spill.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us lately.”

Ben’s heart hit the soles of his shoes in under a second, the blood in his veins turning to ice as he fought for his breath and to keep the words held in his mouth alive.

“Have...have you, now?” He managed, clearing his throat.

“Yes. About how I’ve felt around you...especially lately. About what we call ourselves.” Hannibal said quietly, taking a small step closer to Ben. The younger man’s heart began to pound in his chest like a war drum.

“Okay...what about it?”

The last of the sun’s light caught in Hannibal’s eyes, maroon fireflies dancing down a cave as they locked with Ben’s.

“I...I loathe the term boyfriend, Benjamin. It makes me feel ill. And truthfully...I really don’t want to call you it any longer.”

For a moment, Ben felt as though the earth beneath him had given way and he had begun to fall. There was nothing left to support him anymore, no solid ground, nothing but an empty, black void. From somewhere, he didn’t know where...he found his voice.

“I...I can get...I’ll get my stuff...” Hannibal held up his hand, a shaky inhale before he spoke again.

“I’m not finished, Benjamin. You see, that term...boyfriend. It’s an abhorrent term that I want to replace with something else. Something I believe, and I hope you do to...that suits us so much better.” Dipping a shaking hand into his pocket and withdrawing a small, midnight black box, Dr. Lecter sank to one knee in the sand and opened it. Inside lay nestled a small, dark titanium ring, reddish in the dying sun and the most perfect thing Benjamin had ever laid eyes on in his life.

“Benjamin Stephens...will you grant me the pleasure, the honour, of spending the rest of my earthbound days at your side? Will you allow me to dry your eyes, help you up, and offer you a hand to hold until the day that we pass on? Benjamin...will you marry me?”

It took a long minute for Ben to find his voice again. It was the longest twenty-three seconds of Hannibal’s life, his breath held until Ben slowly knelt in front of him, his eyes glancing once at the ring before they found Hannibal’s. They gazed at each other for what seemed like forever, until Ben’s fist drew back and flew forward, a solid crack as it collided with Hannibal’s nose.

“You fucking asshole!” Ben spat, tears welling in his eyes as he dove forward to wrap his arms around the now fallen Hannibal. “I thought you...I thought you were gonna...Yes, you absolute fucking dick. And don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

Between gasps as he clutched at his face and blood poured from his nose, Hannibal smiled wider than he ever had before as Ben’s arms wound around him and held, his fingers never letting go of the ring. Though his vision was blurred with pain and he was quite sure his nose was broken, happiness like he had never felt flooded through him as he clung to Ben, his smile never faltering. For the first time in his adult life, Hannibal Lecter felt at home.

 

 


	22. Twenty-Two.

Two weeks later, Hannibal’s blackened eye had begun to fade, the deep purple shifting into a sickly yellow-green. It certainly drew its share of second glances whenever he went out, and when Ben’s mother came to visit, took a long time for the two men to sit down and explain. Carol was in her element with an injury to treat, following Hannibal around the beautifully furnished townhouse and constantly offering up herbal home remedies, tricks she had learned from southern almanacs and her mother, and so many “You should sit down, dear”’s that Hannibal was ready to go insane.

Ben flaunted his ring whenever he had the chance, practically shoving it into his mother’s face the minute she walked in the door with his smile so bright it could have lit up a darkened room. The unearthly squeal that echoed forth from Carol could have shattered glass, the delight on her face that could only be brought about by her son's happiness bringing a smile to Hannibal's face. Ben was happy, his family was happy...it was impossible not to allow himself to become infected with the emotion as well. Carol made herself right at home, without need of invitation or a tour, flitting between the Hannibal's prized kitchen and dusting whatever piece of furniture she could lay her hands on.

Ben couldn't help but laugh at the two of them; his mother racing around the house and leaving organized chaos in her wake, Hannibal hot on her tail and setting things the way they had been before. The high from Hannibal's proposal still hadn't worn off yet, rekindled each and every time he glanced down at his ring. It was...perfect. It was like Hannibal had peeked into his mind and seen exactly the kind of ring he would’ve wanted - if he’d known he wanted one - perfectly crafted with an amount of detail that nearly stole the breath from his lungs. Fucker had deserved the pop in the nose, but all the same. A shiner and a little bit of pain was good for a man occasionally. Especially one as frustratingly perfect as Hannibal Lecter. Laying in bed and twisting the ring around his finger with his thumb, Ben drank in the details and scoring around the edges until the weak evening light streaming in from the window faded and darkness swept the room. Hannibal lay asleep, the doctor’s heartbeat comforting and strong beneath Ben's ear. As his body relaxed and his eyes grew heavy, Ben smiled softly and closed his eyes, resting against Hannibal's chest. Sleep came quickly, filled with dreams that he relished.

When Ben's breathing grew even, developing slowly but surely into soft snores, Hannibal opened one eye, shifting just slightly beneath the other man to assure himself he was truly asleep. When Ben did nothing but softly grumble and settle in again, Hannibal opened both eyes to stare at the ceiling, his breathing calm and even. Lightly trailing his hand up and down Ben's back, Hannibal allowed himself to simply watch and listen to the younger man for some minutes. The peace written across Ben's face was something beautiful to see, his expression nearly boyish in the dark. It served to consistently remove a burden from Hannibal's shoulders, to see Ben happy and contented. Love was something in which he had always harboured an abstract curiosity, something he had contemplated and examined, but never immersed himself in. A strange and somewhat fear-inspiring quirk of human nature, something that he considered himself safe from. Until Benjamin. Even now, after countless hours spent doing exactly what he was now, staring at the ceiling and fighting to understand just what he felt, it still slipped from his grasp. Hannibal had never been one to not understand things, logic easily dissecting situations and ideas and showing him how they worked in his mind. Logic failed him now. Reason abandoned him. Any pattern he’d hoped to follow, lost. This love...it changed as a virus did, constant and with one goal in mind. What that goal was, it was anyone's guess.

There was a quiet bang from downstairs, one that made Hannibal stiffen in Ben and clutch Ben tighter. A feminine curse followed nearly immediately after, a voice that was distinctively Carol. Ben snorted softly in his sleep and grumbled so low that Hannibal could not hear, bringing a lazy smile to the doctor’s face. The younger man's mother had gushed her excitement to the doctor for hours at a time, frequently bringing up how eager the rest of Ben's family was to meet him. To stare at him as though he was an animal in a cage would have been a more accurate description, but in the name of manners, he would comply. Come the wedding, he would have a chance to meet them all. And, if he deemed it necessary, promptly steal Benjamin away and wash his hands of his family.

Family...Ben was surrounded by it. It was part of who he was, what had shaped him and moulded him into the being that now owned Hannibal's heart. What would it have been like, to be taught by someone other than one's self? Carefully, cautiously, Hannibal allowed himself to tread into his memories. His mother, his father. Though he had been just a boy when they were killed, memories of them stayed strong and vibrant in his mind. They had taught him some things in his short time with them, he supposed. His father, how to be noble, to always treat a woman with chivalry and respect. To only respond with violence when provoked. His mother, to always be polite and to act with the grace that he carried along with his name. But they were no more. And as the last of his line, when the ground claimed Hannibal as it does all men, the Lecter name would be no more. It did not bother him, emotionally. A noble and ancient bloodline, it had survived ages and would die with grace. With its final son happy.

Family was not something that Hannibal had associated himself with for many years. In his mind’s eye - though distant cousins, uncles and aunts existed - he was alone, and happily so. There was only one...One left that he allowed himself to address as family, even if she did not see him as such. Lady Murasaki, his Uncle Robert's wife, was his last relative on earth who knew him. Ben did not know this. As far as the younger man was concerned, Hannibal's family was a subject that the doctor preferred not to speak about or reminisce. But now...marriage was, he supposed a big deal. A huge deal. The biggest deal of Hannibal's adult life. Big enough it set his pulse to climbing with even the slightest thought of it, only slowed back down through deep breaths and distracting thoughts. Lady Murasaki. She had gone back to Hiroshima, the last he had heard from her. She had gone home to the scorched city and left him behind, forsaking her nephew for ashes and burnt memories. She had abandoned him. Truth rang clearly in Hannibal's mind, unwelcome and piercing. He had turned from her just as much as she had left him. She had tried, tried to reach him through the numbness that he had allowed himself to sink into, but he had turned her away. The slight twinge of guilt pinched in his chest and pulled a sigh from his lungs. Closing his eyes and willing his mind to slow, Hannibal rested his head against Ben's and urged sleep to come.

 

~

 

"Come for a walk with me?" Hannibal leaned against the doorframe of the living room and watched Ben flick through channels, the two men enjoying the silence of the house. Carol had left for groceries, appalled at the significant lack of bacon and frying methods in Hannibal's kitchen.

"Care to just drop the bombshell here? I'm comfy." Ben cracked a grin as he let his head loll against the back of the couch, looking over at Hannibal. "Change your mind about popping the question?"

Hannibal snorted audibly and turned to find a pen and paper, calling from where he stood. "Hilarious."

"Whatcha doin' there, hotshot?" Ben asked as he got up, watching as Hannibal's perfect calligraphy scrawled across the scrap piece of paper.

"I..." Hannibal said, finding a piece of tape before sticking the note to the door. "Am leaving a note for your mother so she doesn't call the National Guard when she comes home and we're not here."

Ben nodded solemnly. "Somethin' she'd do, yup. Where we walkin'?" He asked as Hannibal opened the door, waiting until the doctor had closed it behind the both of them before beginning to walk.

"Anywhere you'd like."

"Ya know...liquor store is just down the street."

Hannibal laughed aloud and shook his head as they walked, reaching out to take Ben's hand in his. "Then that's where we'll go."

They walked in silence for some time, Ben's thumb rubbing the back of Hannibal's hand. The doctor’s hands were a constant object of fascination to Ben. Elegant and tanned, they looked to be the hands of an expert pianist or perhaps an artist. Which they were, but they were more. Hannibal possessed a strength in his hands that you would not expect, a lithe and wiry power. All at once the image of Hannibal's hand wrapped around Ben's cock popped into his head, prompting the younger man to swallow hard and focus on the sidewalk before him. Hannibal noticed the brief tensing of Ben's hand. He noticed everything. Taking advantage of the moment, Hannibal cleared his throat softly before speaking.

"So...your mother tells me that the rest of your family wants to meet me."

Ben grimaced just slightly, slipping his unoccupied hand into his pocket and shrugging a shoulder.

"Yeah. I'm a bit on the fence about that, I'll admit," he said after a moment. Hannibal nodded slowly.

"More reactions like your father?"

"Most of em' would be assholes, yeah. Thinkin' a lot of them won't make it for a weddin' invitation." Ben knew that Hannibal wouldn't argue with him over that point.

If the doctor had his way, the only people attending the wedding would be a minister and Ben's parents. Moments of silence as they kept walking, before Hannibal once more cleared his throat.

"You got a hairball there, gorgeous?"

Hannibal snorted and rolled his eyes. "My word, you are funny." He grumbled before trailing off. Ben grinned but stayed quiet, waiting until the doctor was ready to say what he had originally wanted to.

"Would...you ever be interested in meeting my family?" Hannibal finally asked. The words felt awkward on his tongue, his eyes staying on the pavement in front of them until Ben paused. The tug on Hannibal's arm brought him to a stop as well, turning and watching the other man's face. Ben was looking at him warily, a topic he wasn't sure how to approach with the doctor now presented.

"I thought..." He started. "Didn't think ya had any left."

Hannibal gave Ben's hand a gentle squeeze to reassure him, the younger man cautiously following the doctor as he began to walk again.

"I have an aunt. I haven't spoken to her in many years, and I am at fault for that. We parted on...less than affectionate terms." Hannibal was surprised at how easily the words came once he had overcome the obstacle of beginning. "I would very much like to be able to apologize to her."

"She know you're gay?" Ben asked, earning a look of surprise from Hannibal.

"...Benjamin, I didn't know until I met you. No."

"Gotcha. So...where's she live?" Hannibal reeled with Ben's second question, squinting hard at the younger man. He wasn't a young man, this was true, but he was not near close enough to be losing his hearing. He had expected a reaction from Benjamin, and wasn't getting...anything.

"You aren't...phased...by this?" He asked slowly. Ben laughed out loud, hard, grinning as the doctor stared at him as though he'd grown a second head.

"Hannibal...this is comin' from a man who told me he ate people. So you got an aunt. There ain't much left ya can say ta me that's gonna phase me, big guy."

Hannibal blinked once, before nodding along to Ben's undeniable logic.

"I suppose...that's a viable point."

"Damn rights it is." Ben nodded. "And ya didn't answer my question. Where's she live?"

"Hiroshima." Hannibal answered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I believe. That's where she was the last time I talked to her."

"Well, how fast can we get tickets to Japan?"

It was Hannibal who stopped dead this time, staring hard at Ben. "Benjamin, I meant that perhaps we could send her a wedding invitation. By mail. I was not implying-"

"That we were gonna fly ta Japan ta see your aunt? Yeah, got that. That's kinda a dick move, Hannibal. Poof, I'm gone for how many years, by the way, come to my wedding with a dude?" Ben snorted as he yanked Hannibal after him, practically dragging the stunned doctor after him on the way down the street.

"Ben, we can't just...I can't just...I've never been to Japan." Hannibal protested, grasping at straws as he stumbled after the younger man.

"I was there, couple times. Articles I wrote and shit. Nice country. All classy and shit...your kinda deal." Ben said casually, not breaking stride. "Relax. My mom can housesit."

"I am not leaving your mother alone in my house-"

"Our house, fiancé a' mine. And yes...you are."

 

                                 ~

 

"I can't believe this," Hannibal muttered later, sitting on his bed dazed.

Ben tossed a t-shirt over his head into the open suitcase, speaking without looking back at the still stunned doctor. "Quit your whining. It'll be fun."

"I don't even know where she lives," the doctor mumbled.

"It's 2014. You can find anybody these days." Ben paused and held up two dress shirts. "Blue or white?"

"Blue," Hannibal said, rubbing his forehead. "Benjamin, you can't just...fly off to Japan after barely an hour of discussion. And it's unfair to ask your mother to take care of the house." He lamely countered.

Ben laughed out loud as he folded a pair of jeans. "Well, the tickets are bought and everythin'. And oh, please. Didja see the look on her face? She's tickled fuckin' pink. So don't pull that excuse on me, Hannibal." Ben grinned, excitement lighting up in his eyes.

As much as Hannibal hated to admit it at this particular moment in time, the sight of his fiancé so happy sent a little thrill of joy through his veins.

"This is going to be a disaster." The older man whined as he stood, hands in the pockets of his slacks as he watched Ben pack.

Pausing and dusting off his palms, the younger man turned with a grin on his mouth and placed both hands on either side of Hannibal's face, kissing the doctor soundly before pulling back.

"Maybe. But it's gonna be a funny as fuck story to tell when we're sitting' on that porch swing."

 

 


	23. Twenty-Three.

"On the list of idiotic ideas that you've had, Benjamin...this is near the top." Hannibal muttered, keeping close to Ben's side as they milled through shoulder to shoulder crowds flocking in the Hiroshima Airport. It was not the first time Hannibal had flown after his escape from Tennessee, and after much internal deliberation concerning whether or not his image would still be taped beneath international airport desks. Who would expect him to visit Japan? No one. He didn't expect to visit the island. The flight had gone relatively smoothly, he and Benjamin swallowed in the crowd and hurried along with the rest of the plane. Hannibal Lecter did not like planes. Cramped and smelling of heavily recycled air, he avoided them as much as possible. Admittedly, the flight was made more bearable with Ben at his side.

"Quit your whinin'. We made it, didn't we?" Ben wrapped an arm around Hannibal's waist and planted a kiss on his cheek, leading the grumbling doctor to baggage claim and giving him an affectionate pat on the backside.

"Mmmph," Hannibal muttered at Ben's kiss, sliding his hands into his pockets and focusing intently on the whirring baggage claim. Ben grinned and dropped his arm from around the doctors waist, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"Alright, so. This is gonna rack me up a pretty hefty bill for roaming charges...but what did ya say your aunt’s last name was? Murky?"

"Murasaki. Sheba Murasaki." Hannibal corrected. Ben nodded and tapped something in his phone, raising the doctor’s brow. "What are you doing?"

"The magic of technology, stud. I'm looking her up." Ben answered without looking up, not seeing Hannibal step forward and away from him in the crowd to retrieve their bags. Finding the name he had been looking for with a grin on his face, Ben lifted his eyes from the screen with a triumphant smile to the space beside him Hannibal had occupied not seconds earlier. Seeing nothing, Ben spun around, unfamiliar faces crowding his vision.

"Ha- Gabriel?" he called out, slipping the device back into his pocket. "Huntington, this really ain't funny." There was nothing but the hum of the crowd that occasionally bumped against him. For a brief moment Ben felt the fear of a child well up in his stomach, cold and spreading slowly through his veins. Hannibal wouldn't have just left him like that. Flown him all the way to fuckin' Japan and dropped his ass like a stray dog.

"Looking for me?" The smooth voice in his ear made him jump and whirl around, a scowl written upon his face as he met the grin of Hannibal.

"You dick. Where'd ya go? Can't just wander off like that in this country."

"I went to get our things, my love. And you can trust me when I tell you that I am not easy to subdue." Hannibal chuckled softly, two rolling suitcases held in each hand. Ben grumbled something Hannibal didn't quite catch, something that sounded like "Ass."

"Yeah, yeah. I found your auntie." Ben huffed as he took his bag from the doctor and stalked towards the exit, followed by a now smiling Hannibal. "Ass."

 

                                                              ~

 

"We don't have to do this." Hannibal spoke, clutching Ben's hand so tightly his knuckles were white. Ben sighed softly as the cab rolled over a bump, turning to the ashen-faced doctor with his voice soft.

"Hannibal. We just flew out ta fuckin' Japan ta meet this chick. Ain't turnin' around now. We're committed."

"For the love of all that is holy, Benjamin, please don't call her ‘chick’ when we meet her. She'll kill us both, and I mean that quite literally."

"Relaaaaax. Ya know me. I'm a regular charmer." Ben flashed a crooked grin, laughing as Hannibal groaned.

"Heaven help us." Hannibal breathed softly, the slight squeal of the brakes as the cab stopped. Paying the driver and climbing out, Ben unloaded the bags from the trunk before moving to stand beside Hannibal. Following the doctor’s eyes, he took in the humble Japanese home, looking up at the darkened windows.

"She may kick us out." Hannibal quipped suddenly, his hand grasping the handle of his suitcase. Ben turned to stare at the other man with a little laugh, shaking his head.

"Tell me that now..."

"And she may or may not be in possession of a number of swords. Please do your best not to offend her ancestors."

"Fuckin' A. Her ancestors are gonna love me." Ben grinned and slapped Hannibal on the back. "Come on, hotshot. Let's go meet the family."

Striding forward with bravado, Ben whistled as he walked up the steps and to the door, waiting until Hannibal had dragged himself after him and stood at his side. There was a long pause before Ben spoke quietly.

"Maybe you should knock," he whispered.

"Me? Why me? I wanted to send a postcard. This was your idea," Hannibal hissed softly, met with a glare from Ben.

"Do you wanna get laid on our honeymoon or not? Knock it off, and quit bein' a pussy." The younger man spat.

Hannibal gave him a long, deadly look before sighing in defeat and raising his hand to the door. Three short, sharp knocks, met with nothing but silence from the house. "Maybe she's not home," he muttered softly. "Shame. I guess we'll have to find a hotel. There was a really nice-"

The click of a latch and the door opening suddenly stopped the sentence on Hannibal's li. In the doorway stood a woman, her face aged but still beautiful. She looked to Ben as though she'd drawn many a second glance in her youth, her features distinctly Japanese, intelligence in her eyes that reminded him suddenly of Hannibal. To the doctor, the sight of a face so long buried in his past temporarily took words from his mouth and left him silent.

"Hannibal?" Lady Murasaki asked, her voice even and with the same tone he remembered from their years in Paris.

"Yes," Hannibal replied simply. She nodded once, assuring herself of her nephew’s presence before her. All at once her hand drew back and cracked hard across Hannibal's cheek, a slap strong enough to knock him back a step. Ben winced with the sound and the impact but stayed silent. From the stories Hannibal had told him on the plane, the way that the doctor and his aunt had parted ways,...pretty much warranted a slap. Maybe a kick in the balls, too. Hannibal could take a little bit of abuse. Jackass probably got off on pain.

Turning back to his aunt and refraining from rubbing his cheek, now throbbing from the impact of the slap against his already bruised face, Hannibal bowed his head.

"It's a testament to both your nerve and your stupidity to show up at my home." The stately woman said coldly, her arms folded beneath her breasts as she regarded her nephews bow.

"I understand." Came Hannibal’s meager reply.

"I should call the police," Lady Murasaki said after a moment of silence.

Ben chose that moment to cough and step forward, resting both his hands on Hannibal's shoulders and giving Lady Murasaki a big grin.

"Whoooooah now. Hi, ma'am," he said cheerily, Hannibal's head twisting to stare at Ben with the look of horror we wear when we are about to witness an accident. "Now, I get that you're probably jus' a tad pissed off, and you've got every damn right ta be. Little shit deserved that slap." Ben laughed.

Hannibal, for a moment, saw his life flash before his eyes.

"Probably wonderin' who I am, too," Ben said, slipping his arm around the doctor’s waist with the same shit-eating grin. "Why don't ya cough up those manners and introduce me ta yer lovely aunt, Hannibal."

The doctor nearly swayed on his feet for a moment, turning back to see Lady Murasaki staring at his fiancé as though he had grown two heads, her eyes wide as saucers. Weakly summoning his voice, Hannibal spoke with a rasp.

"Lady Murasaki...this is my fiancé, Benjamin. Ben...this is my aunt, Lady Murasaki."

Ben waved happily with his free hand at the mention of his name. There was a very long silence on the doorstep of the house, the noble looking woman regarding both men for a few tense minutes. Pursing her lips, she finally set her eyes to Hannibal.

"I always knew one day you'd drift to men," she finally said. Hannibal stared at her incredulously before the roaring sound of Ben's laughter sounded, the younger man nearly doubled over as he erupted into laughing, tears beading in his eyes as he leaned against the doctor for support.

"Holy...holy shit..." Ben gasped for air.

Hannibal felt weak-kneed. Any moment, with Ben's constant cursing, Lady Murasaki would send them both on their way. And what kind of response was that?! Turning to the lady and bracing for another slap, be it verbal or physical, Hannibal awaited her next words. The sound of Lady Murasaki's laughter was not what he expected to hear.

"Come in, come in...both of you. Mister...Benjamin? Please, you will catch cold."

"Call me Ben, ma'am. And thank ya kindly." Ben grinned as he wiped his eyes again, pulling his suitcase after him and walking into the house as though he had done it a thousand times. Hannibal stood rooted to the spot on the doorstep for some seconds, blinking in shock and shaking his head as he tried to free himself from his stupor.

"You can sit outside if you'd like, nephew. But please shut the door." Lady Murasaki's voice called from the inside of the house, snapping Hannibal out of his daze and pulling him inside. What had just happened had not quite yet settled itself inside his brain.

When he rounded the corner of the house and took in the sight before him, Hannibal could do nothing but stare. Ben had settled himself onto one of the chairs in the living room, comfortable as if he had been sitting in his own Lazy Boy. Lady Murasaki stood before her small stove, readying a kettle of tea, looking over her shoulder at the sight of her struck dumb nephew.

"Tea?" she asked calmly. Hannibal inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, steadying himself and summoning his own calm back once again.

"Please. Thank you." He managed, setting his suitcase aside and taking a seat, straight-backed and stiff in his discomfort. Hannibal had prepared himself for a situation fraught with raised voices and cool refusal, not a polite offer for tea and his fiancé so comfortable in the home of his aunt. The situation he faced now was nearly surreal, and one he was not prepared to either believe, or comprehend.

“Where are you two staying?” The stately woman asked as the kettle began to whistle. Hannibal and Ben exchanged a quick look before the younger man cleared his throat, shrugging a shoulder.

“Well, ma’am...this trip was a little on the fly. Reckon we’ll find a hotel somewhere.” He confessed. The older woman snorted softly, shaking her head.

“Nonsense. You will be guests in my home.”

“Ma’am, that’s awful kind of ya, but ya don’t have ta-”

"Do you think I am incapable of hospitality?" Lady Murasaki chided softly moments later when she handed Hannibal his cup, following it with Ben's.

"Thank ya, ma'am." Ben said, taking the hint to shut up and sipping from the hot liquid, squinting at the unfamiliar taste.

Lady Murasaki smiled at the younger man before turning to Hannibal again. "Besides. I like him."

Ben grinned and raised his cup to Hannibal with a big "I told you so" grin, settling back into his chair. The doctor exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose, the residual pain in his face spiking with the pinch. His tea stayed untouched in his cup, growing colder by the moment and raising Lady Murasaki's perfectly formed brow.

"Do you not like the tea?" she asked sharply.

Hannibal raised his head, eyes jet-lagged and tired. His voice was honest. "Please tell me what you are trying to do." he said wearily.

Ben cleared his throat loudly and stood, setting his cup down. "I'm gonna go put the bags away, ma'am. Unless ya change your mind."

"Of course. There is a guest room in the hallway."

Ben nodded his acknowledgement and turned to gather his and Hannibal's suitcases, disappearing from the common room without another word.

The only sound in the open room was the rhythmic ticking of the clock, the silence that was so loud it seemed to scream in Hannibal's ears.

"I am not trying to do anything but be a gracious hostess."

"Do not lie to me."

"Don't you dare speak to me in that way. After years, Hannibal, years of silence. After I watched what used to be my nephew die, you come back here and expect what?"

"That slap, and a short goodbye. That is what I expected."

"Age has made you stupid."

"I could not agree more. It was not my decision to come here." The sharp sting of Hannibal's words hit Lady Murasaki like hornets, swallowing before she spoke again, fighting to keep her voice low and civil.

"Does he know?"

"He knows everything."

"And still he stays with you."

"I like to believe he loves me."

"And you love him?"

"What is left in me that is able to love?" Hannibal spoke from memory, the same words that Lady Murasaki left him with as a boy. "I love him the best I know how to, and he says that is enough. I believe him, or I suffer."

His aunt was quiet for a moment, looking out an open window of the house. Hannibal realized he had stood up, his tea spilled onto the linoleum floor.

"I am happy for you," she said, clasping her hands together and drawing a deep breath. "Why have you come?"

"Benjamin recently introduced me to his family."

"As?"

"His psychiatrist, Gabriel Huntington."

"So many lies, Hannibal."

"How could I possibly tell them the truth? I would not take them from him like that. He cares for them. Benjamin wanted my family at the wedding, too." Hannibal spoke softly, watching the reflection of the weak afternoon sun in the spilled puddle of tea.

"I am your family, then."

"The only family I have."

"That ain't true." The deep baritone voice surprised both Hannibal and his aunt, Ben's formidable form entering the living room. He paused at Hannibal's side, arms folded over his chest and his icy blue eyes on Lady Murasaki. "Look, ma'am...and before you folks cut me off, I heard everythin'. I get you bein' pissed an all’, but try and talk a little nicer to my fiancé, okay? He sure ain't stupid, and I sure don't like hearin' him called that."

"Ben..." Hannibal said quietly.

Ben raised his hand and waved it slightly to cut him off.

"Don't ‘Ben’ me, Hannibal," he said shortly, before clasping his hands together and once more focusing on Lady Murasaki. "You seem like a real nice lady, ma'am. An' I'm sure ya are. But just remember that this man right here's done a whole fuckin' lot in the matter of savin' me, so ya just talk nice, ya hear?" Ben finished, before turning to point at Hannibal. "And you fergot socks, by the way."

Walking back out of the centre of the conversation, Ben made his way back into the bedroom to continue unpacking, leaving a stunned silent Lady Murasaki and an incredibly proud Hannibal in his wake. Lady Murasaki's lips moved as she searched for words, blinking before her voice finally returned.

"I did not...expect you to fall in love with a character such as he."

"Neither did I." Hannibal responded immediately, the pride in his voice something impossible not to hear.

"Hannibal..." Lady Murasaki said again, a new note in her voice. It sounded like sincerity, but Hannibal's guard was still up. "I am happy for you. Truly. For both of you." He nodded once in response, watching with a raised brow as the woman dropped her gaze to the floor. "When... when is the wedding?" She asked softly. Hannibal's shoulders sagged, a little smile on his face.

"The precise date hasn't been set...but as soon as possible. Next month, hopefully."

Lady Murasaki smiled softly.

"A fall wedding. Beautiful."

"Well...it's cooler summer in California."

"...California? My goodness…”

 

 


	24. Twenty-Four.

“Oh for the love of...am I the only one in this facility who knows the precise shade of cloud grey?” Hannibal fumed, gesturing wildly to the trimming lining the tablecloth in his hand, a small and shaking member of the work crew before him. “This is so dark it could be black. How did you get this job? Did you win a draw? My God," he spat, venom dripping from his tone. “Fix. It.”

Crumpling up the linen tablecloth and tossing it into the nearest trash bin, Hannibal rubbed his temples as the man sprinted away. Imbeciles. Everyone here...imbeciles. Were his instructions so difficult to follow? The correct color shades for the decorations, the place settings...everything was laid out as simply as he could possibly word it. And then these bumbling dullards had to tromp in and insist on making the wedding preparations as complicated as they could possibly be. Why, oh why had he allowed Ben’s mother to choose the decorators? Why had he let her become involved at all? Hannibal swore he had earned more gray hairs during the two weeks since he and Benjamin had returned home from Japan than he ever had in his life.

Lady Murasaki was staying in the town house's guest room, quietly watching the proceedings and staying relatively uninvolved.

Ben stayed as far as possible away from the wedding preparations as he could, as though he was allergic to the entire mess. He and Lady Murasaki had struck up quite the friendship, gossiping about Hannibal’s school days with Ben’s booming laughter sounding with the tales she spun of the awkward young teen. The doctor left the two alone for the most part, only occasionally popping his head in to ask Ben the odd question about what colors he would prefer, ideas he may have, solemnly taking note of whatever Benjamin said before disappearing again.

“He’s stressin’ himself out too much.” Ben remarked one day, after Hannibal had zipped back to yelling at decorators on the phone. Lady Murasaki sipped serenely at her tea, setting the fine china cup down again before she spoke.

“He cares. I have only ever seen him agitated when he cares,” she said.

Ben nodded slowly, sighing out long and loud before heaving himself up off the couch.

“He cares much more and he’s gonna wind up poppin’ a blood vessel.” He half grinned, draining the rest of his coffee before giving Hannibal’s aunt a little nod. “Ya alright here by yerself? I’m gonna go try and smooth some feathers.”

Lady Murasaki laughed, nodding as she smiled up at Ben.

“Of course. Best of luck.”

 

~

 

There was no time left for any mistakes. With the wedding three days away and Hannibal stressed to his breaking point, every tiny mishap, every little miscommunication seemed multiplied by a thousand. He hadn’t slept soundly since God knows when, even holding Ben in his arms. There was no time left for sleep, for relaxing, for taking things as they came. Everything needed to be flawless and without a hitch. Hannibal could hardly believe that little over a month ago he had wanted to settle for a dingy service in Las Vegas, simply for the sake of speed. Now that he had committed himself to the perfection that would be his one and only wedding, he had turned himself into a monster that the decorators had quickly learned to fear.

The wedding was going to be held outdoors, on a small section of secluded beach that had taken a considerable amount of financial wrestling to rent. Hannibal would settle for nothing less. He had told Ben firmly that they would not be married in a house of God, and the younger man had complacently agreed. With the few chairs that were needed set up, nearly everything finished, there was nothing left to really stress over. That didn’t stop the doctor from mercilessly hunting down the tiniest of flaws in the setup and ripping apart whoever had caused them. A violent channel for his stress, but a channel nonetheless.

Seated at his desk and scribbling away at the reservation signs that no one else seemed to be able to make, the knock on the door set Hannibal’s teeth on edge and pulled his voice forward in a growl.

“I’m busy.”

The door opened, further provoking his frustrated irritation, his head snapping up and mouth opening to send whoever had dared intrude sprinting out of the house. When his eyes met Ben’s, some of the aggression died, but not all.

“What is it? I need to get this done.” Hannibal snapped, bowing his head to continue writing. Ben cracked a crooked grin and lazily made his way over to where Hannibal sat, his slow and laid back pace only further annoying the doctor. How could Ben afford to be so... relaxed, at a time like this? Of course he wasn’t in charge of any arrangements, but all the same.

“How’s it goin’, fiance a’ mine?” Ben’s deep voice was suddenly at the doctor’s ear, making him startle slightly.

“It’s going incredibly busy and with no time to spare. I’ll ask again...what is it?” Hannibal growled, hand clenching his pen so tightly his knuckles were white. Ben chuckled softly before kissing the shell of Hannibal’s ear, pressing his nose to the doctor’s cheek with his hands resting on his shoulders, voice soft.

“Ain’t I allowed to show my future husband a little love?” he murmured, his mouth moving to kiss Hannibal’s cheek. With the kisses, the pressure of Ben’s hands on his shoulders, Hannibal slowly sighed and closed his eyes, relaxing just a fraction back into his chair and letting his pen drop to the desk.

“Of course you are,” he said softly, barely containing his groan as Ben grinned against his skin and dropped a kiss to his throat.

“Better be,” Ben mumbled. “Walk with me?”

“Benjamin, I don’t have time...”

“You don’t got a half hour to just walk? To relax?” Ben chided softly. “Hannibal, ya got no reason ta be this stressed out. I get ta marry you in three days. I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty fuckin’ pumped. Ain’t nothin’ gonna change that. Not even mismatched tablecloths.” Hannibal laughed despite of himself, glancing down at the half finished signs in his looping calligraphy, before his shoulders sagged in defeat.

“Alright...but only half an hour. Understood?”

Ben stepped back in front of the desk and snapped a salute, his heels clicking together.

“Yes sir!” He barked, grinning as Hannibal did, shaking his head.

“You’re so strange.” The doctor chuckled softly, letting Ben take his hand and pull him towards the door of the study. Ben winked, giving Hannibal’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“Strange people are the best kind. Ya haven’t been bored yet, have ya?”

“No, I certainly haven’t.” Hannibal grinned as he was tugged out the door.

 

~

 

“We’re not going to the liquor store again, are we?” Hannibal asked warily once they had gotten into the street, earning a laugh from Ben.

“No sir. Tryin’ ta stay just a little bit sober before the big day, an’ all.” He teased, nudging Hannibal’s shoulder with his own and getting only a weak smile in return. “Hey. Seriously, though...what’s buggin’ you?”

“Nothing is bothering me.” Hannibal shrugged a shoulder, his hand warm in Ben’s. Ben cocked a brow and snorted.

“Hannibal, I’d like ta think I ain’t stupid. I been around ya long enough I know when somethin’ is buggin’ ya, and let me tell you, somethin’ is definitely buggin’ ya. So spill and quit bein’ such a woman about it.”

“I am not being a woman about-”

“Yeah, ya are. Spill.” Ben cut him off mid sentence. Hannibal grumbled something unintelligible, but began to speak.

“I’ve never done this before.” He started slowly, hesitating.

“Well shit, Hannibal. Ya think I have?”

“No, no. I know that, it’s just...” The doctors free hand lifted into the air slightly as he searched for words, his face screwing up into a frustrated expression. Ben stayed quiet and let him look for what he wanted to say.

“I know...that you could do better,” Hannibal finally said, raising his hand yet again to stop the retort that was on Ben’s lips. “Now, don't disagree with me. You, of all the people on this earth, could do worlds better than me.”

“Hannibal-”

“Ben, shush. I’m trying to ‘spill.’” Hannibal shot a look in Ben’s direction, before continuing as he was met with silence. “I am stressing over this wedding because I am trying, to the best of my ability...to show you that even though you could do better, you could perchance be happy with me.”

Hannibal waited for a reply, for some time as they kept walking. Ben looked forward with a contemplative look on his face, until Hannibal couldn’t take it anymore.

“You’re not going to shut up the whole way here and now you choose to be quiet.”

“I’m thinkin of what ta say, ass,” Ben said, before stopping and turning to the doctor, regarding him seriously.

“So you’re scared a’ me not likin’ the wedding.”

“That’s...part of it, yes.”

Ben sighed as he reached out with his free hand to grasp Hannibal’s, rubbing the back of the doctor’s hands with his thumbs while his voice softened.

“Hannibal, I could marry ya’ in a barn with a pig for a pastor and the weddin’ would still be the best day a’ my life.” Ben assured, earning a half grin from Hannibal. “It’s gonna be perfect. And ya know, in twenty years, we ain’t gonna remember the wrong shade a’ grey on the tablecloths or how the chairs weren’t lined up a perfect fuckin’ 90 degree angle.” They both laughed. “All I’m gonna remember is how damn good ya looked standin’ up there at the altar, and how goddamn happy I was when we finally got ta tie the knot.” Ben finished with a rueful grin, giving Hannibal’s hands a squeeze. “Alright?”

Dr. Lecter nodded slowly, blowing out a soft breath before pulling one hand free of Ben’s to wrap it around the younger man’s neck and yank him closer, kissing him hard for a quick moment before pulling back.

“You should write poetry. That was beautiful,” Hannibal said.

Ben grinned wide, moving to wrap his arms around the doctor in a tight hug, kissing his temple. “What can I say, I learn from the best.”

Hannibal laughed into Ben’s shoulder and closed his eyes, letting himself relax against his chest for the first time in weeks.

Ben grinned as he felt Hannibal’s body go lax in his arms, letting the doctor have a moment’s peace before speaking softly in his ear.

“Wanna take me down to the beach so I can yell at decorators with ya?” He grinned as he asked, feeling Hannibal’s smile against his cheek.

“Benjamin, there is nothing I would enjoy more.” Hannibal chuckled softly, kissing the younger man’s cheek before pulling back to just look at him. Ben grinned crookedly with Hannibal’s staring, laughing softly.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“Have you always been this incredibly attractive?”

“Since day one, big guy. You’re usually just too focused on my ass.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Not a bit.”

 

 


	25. Twenty-Five.

It was difficult to properly fasten his tie with shaking hands. Being unsteady was not something Hannibal was accustomed to, and it both unnerved him and served to further his adrenaline. He was quite certain it was not healthy for an average human being to have an elevated heart rate for this long, to be shaky and experience sweaty palms, dilated pupils. He would not to admit to himself that he was afraid. Today was not a day that he could allow himself any semblance of weakness or hesitation, for if he did, he would bear it as a regret for the remainder of his life. Hannibal wanted nothing but happiness associated with this day when, in the future, he reflected back upon it, and he refused to taint it with the admission of fear or insecurity.

“Let me.” The soft, feminine voice spoke from behind his left shoulder. Dr. Lecter turned and managed a weak smile at the sight of Lady Murasaki, her long dark hair flowing behind her shoulders and adorned with a single lily. She stepped in front of him, slender fingers quickly undoing the uneven and crooked mess of his tie, deftly tying it back up and tightening it around his starch white collar.

“Thank you. You look beautiful.” Hannibal nodded his thanks. The older woman smiled and patted his chest, leaning up to press a kiss to her nephew’s cheek before stepping back to regard her handiwork.

“And you look very handsome. He’ll be pleased to see you,” she said gently. Hannibal half laughed, turning for the umpteenth time to regard himself in the mirror, pick nonexistent lint off of his dark suit, and straighten everything that was already immaculate. Lady Murasaki watched him quietly, with a bemused smile barely hidden, seeing the nerves that she had never before witness bother her nephew concealed under the facade of calm. From the moment she had first met Hannibal Lecter, the very first thing that had struck her regarding him was his immeasurable calm. He wore it as a shield, she knew, and it was refreshing to her to watch that shield fall away.

“I certainly hope so,” Hannibal said, inhaling deeply and smoothing his hair back. “Though I have no doubt he’ll outshine me in every way.”

“He should,” she said, gently patting Hannibal’s arm. “He will shine in your eyes as you will in his. That is how it should be, on a day like today.” Hannibal nodded slowly at his aunt’s undeniable wisdom, blowing out a long breath before turning away from the mirror to face her.

“Thank you for doing this. Coming here for me.”

“What else would I do? Let my only nephew stand alone on his wedding day?” She teased, her heart warmed with the sight of Hannibal’s smile. He looked so much younger when he did so, some of his normal solemn features wiped away in youthful happiness. Smiles are the most beautiful on those who wear them rarely.

 

~

 

“Ma, c’mon now. I know how ta dress myself,” Ben whined as his mother fussed over his coat, his arms hanging loosely at his sides as he tolerated - just barely - the older woman’s panic.

“Carol, leave the boy be. He looks fine.”

“Both of you shut up. Benjamin, I can’t believe we let you leave the house without learning to tie a tie. My goodness. And Jack, you haven’t worn a suit since our wedding day. You hush right up.” Carol gently smacked Ben’s front as he squirmed, earning a laugh from the corner of the room.

“Poor little cousin, gettin’ cleaned right up...” The teasing voice coming from one of Ben’s relatives drove the sandy-haired man to duck away from his mother and huck a folded handkerchief towards the laughing head of the young man, grumbling as it ducked and disappeared from the doorway.

“Jackass.” Ben growled, turning back to let his mother finish her work.

“Ben, language.” She chided, tightening the knot before picking lint off of Ben’s shoulder, her weathered hands finally stilling only to clasp together. “Oh Ben...you look so handsome.”

“Thanks, Ma.” He grinned slightly, watching as his father stepped up to stand beside his mother. Carol’s eyes filled with tears as she saw Ben smile, clasping her hands together in front of her face and taking a deep breath.

“My goodness, seems only yesterday you were just my baby boy...” She started, tears trailing down her cheeks.

“Carol, honey...”

“Ma...”

Both men started it at once, before Carol flung herself forward to grab Ben in a bear hug so tight ribs began to complain, sniffling against his shirtfront as he hugged her back gently.

“Oh, ma...hey now. Nothin’ ta cry about...” Ben started, glancing over his mother’s shoulder towards Jack, a silent cry for help written on his face. His father shrugged a shoulder and stood back, letting Ben deal with the crying woman on his own.

“Hey, you’re wreckin’ my shirt.” Ben joked halfheartedly, patting his mother on the back. Carol pulled back, her eyes puffy and red, sniffling once more as she saw the damp patch on Ben’s suit.

“Oh my goodness, Ben. You need to change.”

“Ma. I was kiddin’!” Ben said exasperatedly, earning a laugh from Jack. “No time ta change...I think I hear the music startin’,” Ben said, swallowing hard. His heart had been pumping since the minute he’d climbed into this monkey suit, and he hadn’t even seen Hannibal since last night. This was it...

Watching their son begin to panic in the little tent, Jack and Carol both smiled, his arm around her waist.

“Did pretty good, doncha think?” Jack said softly in her ear. His wife’s smile widened, pattin her husband's side.

“Yes...we certainly did.”

 

~

 

The wedding was small, as both Hannibal and Ben had wanted it to be. The majority of the less than twenty chairs gathered before the altar were filled by Ben’s family, people his mother had insisted attend the ceremony. Lady Murasaki was the only representative of Hannibal’s family, and though privately most of Ben’s family thought it was quite strange the doctor did not invite more, most incorrectly assumed that perhaps his family had not wanted to attend the marriage of two men. Both Hannibal and Lady Murasaki were well aware of this rumour, both finding it more than a little humourous. Privately, standing up at the altar as the music began to play, Hannibal imagined to himself what his parents, his sister would think of him on this day. Would they have smiled at him, sitting in the front row? Would they be as happy as he was now?

The thoughts that had temporarily consumed him were quickly banished by a sharp whistle of appreciation, laughter as movement began to occur at the end of the aisle. Hannibal’s heart began to beat so loudly he was sure, even hidden from view, that Ben could hear it. Peering down the aisle and waiting, his limbs feeling as though they were made of water and no strength whatsoever in his bones, the breath deserted Hannibal with the next look he chanced down the aisle.

With his mother on his left and father flanking his right, Ben took his first step out of the tent with his knees so weak he wasn’t sure if he could make the walk. A few short yards seemed like miles, only the support of his parents arms keeping him upright and steady. The first catcall whistle made him grin just slightly, the laughter of his family filling the chairs infectious. Part of him, however small, did not want to look up at the front. Raw emotion was not something that Ben was equipped to deal with, and from the moment he had opened his eyes this morning, it was all that he had gone through. If he was to be honest with himself, he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

He discovered that limit as soon as his eyes landed on the man standing at the altar that looked both awestruck and completely terrified.

Ben blinked, and it seemed to him that when he opened his eyes from that millisecond of darkness, that he had fast forwarded himself to the end of the aisle and his parents were releasing him, Hannibal reaching out to take his hand. Without thinking he took it, and all at once felt rooted in the present again, awakened and aware, and he smiled.

“Hiya, handsome.”

Hannibal could not breathe. There was nothing coming, he could not remember how to even fill his lungs with air as Ben stood before him. All he knew how to do was extend his hand, a drowning man to a lifeline, and hope against hope itself that Ben would reach out and take it. The moment the younger man’s fingers laced with his, air rushed into Hannibal's chest again, Ben’s crooked smile bringing one to Hannibal so brilliant that it would never be replicated again in his life.

“Hi, yourself.”

When both of his hands were held tightly in Ben’s, Hannibal no longer noticed the crowd around them, or the officiant between them beginning his speech. All he noticed, cared to notice, was the warmth of Ben’s hands in his, and the intense blue of the younger man’s eyes. Blue as the ocean, deep enough that if Hannibal had to choose his death at this very moment, it would be drowning in the incredible color.

The dull drone of the officiant was just background noise in Ben’s ears, only heard between each beat of his heart. Fuck, Hannibal looked good in a suit. Had he ever seen the doctor in a suit before? Maybe, but not like this. Holy hell, no suit in the world could compare to a suit like that. What was he talking about again? Right...he hadn’t been talking.

“You look...”

“Not half as good as you.” Hannibal breathed his reply, his thumbs gently rubbing the back of Ben’s hands. The younger man shook his head with a little grin, and Hannibal murmured before he could speak.

“Benjamin, you are the most beautiful human specimen I have seen in my entire life. And don’t you dare argue with me,” Hannibal said low, watching Ben’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“Ain’t gonna argue. You’re just hot when you get all ‘don’t argue with me’.” Ben said, ignoring the sidelong glare he received from the officiant as the two held their murmured conversation.

“You just wait until later,” Hannibal growled so softly Ben nearly didn’t hear it, heat flushing along his skin beneath his suit and bringing a big smile to his face.

“Mr. Huntington?” the officiant asked, snapping Hannibal out of the daydreams that had consumed him.

“Pardon?” He said on instinct, the crowd laughing. The officiant gave a tolerant little sigh before repeating his question once more.

“Gabriel Huntington...do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Hannibal nearly choked, looking into the blue of Ben’s eyes that seemed so unwilling to let his gaze go. How had the ceremony passed so quickly? It couldn't be nearly at the end already, could it? He couldn't remember anything the officiant had said, only the color of Ben’s eyes and that crooked little smile that dashed his train of thought to pieces.

“I do.” Hannibal smiled as his voice grew stronger. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

Ben had been just as surprised as the officiant had questioned Hannibal again as well, lost looking at the doctor and not paying the slightest bit of attention to anything the officiant was saying. Happy that Hannibal had been the one who had missed the first question, Ben waited with a pounding heart as the doctor slowly smiled, the three tiny words he said pulling all strength from Ben’s legs. If he hadn’t been holding Hannibal’s hands, he thought for sure he would have hit the dirt right in front of everybody. Funny maybe years later, not so funny right now.

“And Benjamin Stephens...do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The officiant asked again, peering over his spectacles towards Ben. The younger man didn’t hesitate a moment, a bright beaming grin on his face as his eyes never left the deep maroon of Hannibal’s.

“Hell yeah, I do,” he said clearly, laughter again from the crowd and a playful roll of the eyes from the doctor. The officiant’s voice sounded almost relieved to be approaching the end of his ceremony, snapping the book in his hands shut as he spoke.

“Well then, ladies and gentlemen...by the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss-”

Ben couldn't wait a minute longer. At the sound of the word kiss, he was ready to lunge forward, grab that doctor of his, and lay a big one right on his- Two strong hands grabbing hold of the front of his suit beat him to it, Hannibal yanking the younger man into his arms and kissing him with everything he had in him, to the roaring cheers of the crowd.

When they split apart to breathe, neither for a moment letting go of the other, Ben rested his forehead against Hannibal’s and grinned so wide his cheeks hurt, his eyes wet and his vision blurred.

“I love you.” Hannibal whispered fiercely, arms drawn tight as he could get them around Ben. “Husband of mine...”

“I love you too.” Ben laughed through his tears, the sound hitched with a sob. “Fuck, do I love you. Never leave me?”

“Not in a thousand years.”

 

 


	26. Twenty-Six.

“Fetch me my beverage, butler.” Ben spoke in the most authoritative tone he could manage, hands set on his hips as he stood naked in the doorway. “Or I’ll be forced to punish you with a severe lack of ass in the next weeks.”

Hannibal stared at Ben from his seat on the lounge chair as though he’d grown a second head, squinting slightly in his husband’s direction.

“Benjamin, I told you not to accept any drug paraphernalia from the locals. Are you feeling alright?”

Ben bellowed a laugh before ducking back into the poolside resort home, emerging again with shorts on and a drink in each hand. Swaggering over to where Hannibal lay relaxing, he handed the doctor a drink and smacked a kiss on his lips.

“Like a million bucks, babe. How about you?”

Hannibal rolled his eyes in good nature at the hard kiss from Ben, hiding his smile as he accepted the drink and took a sip. The resort that he had chosen, The NorthWest Point in Turks and Caicos, was proving so far to be a choice he commended himself for. With a small private beach and a beautifully furnished home to stay in, Ben was a kid in a candy store in the ocean and the pool. And though the younger man insisted on ditching his clothes as often as possible, to “even out his tan”, with the privacy of the beach and the seclusion of the home, Hannibal didn’t mind at all. No clothes meant nothing but easier access to his new husband, and that was the cherry on top of the entire honeymoon thus far.

“Wonderful,” he replied over the rim of his glass, stretching as he lounged in the chair and let his eyes wander over Ben’s bare chest. “You should go shirtless more often.”

“I try ta. Every time I do, ya get after me for bein’ ‘indecent in public’.” Ben grumbled softly, downing a healthy swallow of his drink before taking a seat in the chair at Hannibal’s side.

“Well, I don’t mean in public. I mean around me.” The doctor quipped, shrugging his shoulder.

Ben grinned slowly, setting his drink down on the table to the side of his chair. Reaching over the narrow space between he and Hannibal, he let his palm gently rub over the doctors stomach, his voice low and eyes glinting.

“Is somebody, maybe...just a tad...jealous?” He grinned, slipping his hand under the doctor’s white cotton shirt to tease his skin. Hannibal did his best to quell the heat that Ben’s hand started the moment it touched him, their previous night's escapades seeming days past. Calmy setting down his glass and locking his eyes on Ben’s face, Hannibal kept his voice as even as he could, struggling just slightly as the younger man’s fingers found his fly and the stiffening flesh beneath it, slowly beginning to fumble with his zipper.

“And so what...if I was?” He asked softly, glancing around once. They were on the small deck of the beach house, no one had come around since they had arrived. All the same, there were no walls around them to hide what they were doing. The thought excited Hannibal more than he cared to admit.

“Oh, it ain’t a bad thing...” Ben spoke casually, his hands springing Hannibal’s cock free of his shorts, his boxers, slowly stroking the heated shaft to full hardness. “Fact, if I’m ta be honest...I kinda like it when you’re jealous.”

Hannibal swallowed a groan as Ben’s warm hand came in contact with his skin, the younger man’s calloused palm sliding torturously slow along his cock, his broad thumb teasing his very tip. His jaw tight, teeth gritted, Hannibal inhaled deeply through his nose and forced a word out.

“Ben...”

“Little impatient there, huh?” Ben grinned slyly as his free hand dropped to his own zipper, quickly freeing himself from the confines of the cloth and wrapping his hand around his quickly swelling dick. Hannibal was pretty fuckin’ considerable in size, and the feeling of the doctor’s pulse against Ben’s palm made his mouth water. Slipping off of his seat and kneeling beside Hannibal’s, Ben closed his eyes as the doctor’s hand tangled into his hair, leaning forward to press a kiss to the engorged tip of Hannibal’s cock. The doctor jerked slightly with the touch, hissing soft enough Ben almost didn’t catch it. Almost.

Grinning softly at the effect he was having on his husband, Ben slowly wrapped his lips around Hannibal’s tip and sucked softly, working himself slowly as he did so. He felt hot, and not just because of the warm ocean sun beating down on his bare back. He felt heat radiating from the inside, from the pit of his stomach that seemed to be tied in knots with Hannibal’s taste on his tongue. Hot, musky, the doctor’s unique scent fogging his brain and clouding his thoughts. Taking him deeper into his mouth, Ben’s cheeks hollowed as he began to bob his head, one hand dropping to gently work the base of Hannibal’s cock as he tongued the tip, his own hand wrapped around himself speeding up.

With his arm slung behind his head, Hannibal at first closed his eyes and simply enjoyed the sensation Ben was bringing to him. The man was talented, unfairly so, with his tongue, his throat, that devilish glint in his eyes. Gently stroking the back of Ben’s head and letting the younger man set the pace, Hannibal finally opened his eyes to watch Ben, long lashes brushing his cheeks as he mouthed the tip of the doctor’s cock, his hand fisting the base. There was a flash from Ben’s hand, sun glinting off of metal, and all at once Hannibal was captivated by the sight of Ben’s ring as it pumped slowly up and down, up and down.

The reality of Ben now sharing his last name - a false one, but symbolic nonetheless - had not yet sunk in since the ceremony had drawn to a close. It had been nothing but a happy dream since he had first kissed Ben at the altar, something he was afraid to wake up from since they had settled into the honeymoon and began their life together. Now, watching his husband in his rapture, with the ring that bound them together twinkling in the sun, Hannibal all at once felt the reality of the marriage sink into his skin, wrap itself around his bones, and make its home there once and for all. He smiled and tipped his head back once again, not bothering to hide the long, drawn out groan.

Ben grinned softly as he felt the pressure at the back of his head, Hannibal’s hand gently urging him to go deeper, take him farther. He resisted for the briefest moment before inhaling deeply through his nose and taking the doctor down as far as he could in one swift movement. Hearing the sharp inhale from Hannibal above him and holding, pressure building in his groin at the heady sensation of his husband’s cock lodged in his mouth, teasing his throat, he came back up for air and let his hand slide along the spit-slicked length of Hannibal’s cock, grinning up at the doctor.

“Somebody...might see us.” Ben panted, no trace of fear on his face, excitement flushing his cheeks and burning in his eyes.

Hannibal’s chest was heaving, his voice a growl as he grabbed a fistful of Ben’s hair once again. “Who cares.”

Ben moaned as his face was shoved back to work, this time the doctor's hand setting the pace as he worked Ben’s head around his cock, hissed commands that made the younger man go nearly limp with how good it felt to be used. His hand pumped his own achingly swollen cock furiously, hips thrusting into his own palm as his release pulled closer and closer.

Hannibal was not gentle with Ben as he fucked the younger man’s mouth, knowing that pain would be radiating over his husband’s scalp as he yanked and pulled at his hair. He didn’t care. His climax was nearing so quickly that rational thought was a laughable notion, his breath catching as his movements became more erratic and less calculated.

“Fuck.” Hannibal hissed softly as his body took over, thrusting upwards into Ben’s mouth as stars exploded behind his eyes and he let himself go. His lower body jerked once, twice, his tongue held between his teeth as he rode out the throes of orgasm and held on tight to Ben’s hair, the feeling of his tongue sweeping over his now-oversensitized head driving him mad.

Ben knew what was coming minutes before it hit him, the way Hannibal’s body stiffened and his hips began to jerk, the hot, salty taste of cum over and across his tongue pulling a ragged groan from Ben’s chest and his own release from his cock. Panting with his forehead against Hannibal’s thigh, Ben rested for a moment, shivering slightly as his hand gently eased him down from his high, both men trying to catch their breath as they laid there, lazy grins on both faces.

“Well that was fun,” Ben finally said, grinning sleepily up at his husband. “Thought they said married sex was borin’?...”

“This wasn’t technically sex, my love. Perhaps I need to show to you all the different ways that statement is incorrect...”

 

~

 

“J-Jesus...fuck.” Ben gasped as Hannibal finally moved off of him, the doctor panting into the younger man’s nape with a grin on his face.

“I told...I told you...I’d show you.” Hannibal grinned, kissing just below Ben’s ear as he rolled into the doctor’s arms, legs intertwined beneath the crisp cotton sheets of the bed, now dampened with sweat and the results of passion.

“Did you ever...” Ben mumbled, grinning as he kissed along Hannibal's collarbone. They two men laid there for a long while, both unwilling to move, lazily lounging in the afterglow of hours spent tangled up between the sheets. Ben’s limbs and eyes felt heavy, satisfaction flowing like a drug through his veins as he rested in Hannibal’s arms. Marriage... what a funny thought. Years past he and his buddies had joked about marriage, the ol’ ball an’ chain, life as you knew it ended and slavery begun.

Funny enough, this whole marriage thing with Hannibal didn’t feel like slavery at all. Ben felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, his troubles not completely gone...but shared. Hannibal was at his side to ease the burden and take it onto his shoulders as well, to make the walk just a little easier for Ben. Didn’t feel like a ball an’ chain to him at all.

“I love you.” Hannibal’s soft voice cut through the silence that had settled over both of them, a contented sigh slipping from Ben’s lips.

“I love ya too,” he murmured back, scooting up closer to the doctor and treasuring the little twinge of an ache that resounded up from his ass through his muscles.

Hannibal lazily let his nose skim along Ben’s temple, his hand absentmindedly rubbing the younger man’s back as he laid in the afterglow of ecstasy. If anyone had of told him ten years ago, hell, two years ago, that he would one day be laying like this, with a man like this...he would have laughed in their face. Strange, how life twists the plans we make. Strange how sometimes the most unthinkable, far off life we could ever imagine for ourselves becomes our reality. And strange how sometimes it’s as though that was the life we were designed for all along.

“Let me get you a drink?” Hannibal asked softly, kissing Ben’s hair. The younger man nodded and watched as the doctor slid out of bed, padding silently through the darkened hall and out of sight, to the kitchen presumably for the wine. Ben waited and propped himself up sitting in bed, pillows behind his back as he lounged, grinning as Hannibal reappeared minutes later, two glasses of wine in his hand. Ben had never been a wine drinker before he had met the doctor, but he was now finding that it seemed to be an acquired taste.

“Cheers,” Hannibal said once he had settled himself back into bed at Ben’s side, sitting up with his husband nestled into the crook of his shoulder. He loved watching Ben like this, sleepy and sated, resting against him and ready to fall asleep. He looked angelic, every line on his face wiped away and replaced with an expression of complete peace.

“Hannibal?” Ben’s voice interrupted the doctor’s thoughts, Hannibal gently kissing the younger man’s temple.

“Hmmmm?" He asked softly, lifting his glass to his lips to take a sip.

“What would ya think about having kids?”

Hannibal’s wine was expelled violently from his mouth as he spit it out, coating the clean white sheets as he whipped around to stare at Ben. He was met with nothing but an innocent smile.

“ _Benjamin_...”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so... a little piece of my heart draws to a close. If you've made it this far... thank you. For taking the time to share in a little bit of both my joy and my sorrow. I appreciate it more than you know. If you want to read some of my original fiction, I'm also on Wattpad as BleedingMyWords.
> 
> And as for a sequel? Maaaaaaaaybe...


End file.
